Slightly Fond of Blood
by ImmortalFlick
Summary: Harry isn't as strong as everyone thinks. And he isn't a martyr. Cutting
1. Chapter 1

Slightly Fond of Blood  
ImmortalFlick  
Warning: Cutting, blood.  
Disclaimer: Not mine.  
Rating: PG13 (cause of the cutting, I guess)  
Summary: Harry isn't as strong as the world may think.  
A/N: Reviews would be lovely. OotP never happened. Fifth year.  
  
---  
  
Chapter 1  
  
The vivid red liquid ran free down his arm. He smiled and cut again. The motion was relieving and more than a little refreshing. Not tiring or disgusting, just like waking up after an anguished drenched nightmare, only not the kind you have when sleeping. One that was his life. He felt like he was being dragged down by something invisible and strong. Something that was tugging at his soul, making him depressed.  
  
Of course, being depressed wasn't a bad thing, just like cynicism meant you only viewed the real world. Optimisim was a load of bull, in Harry's opinion. No point looking to the light side of life when that wasn't what would save you. Wasn't what your world was full of. Especially when you were Harry Potter. Hero extraordinaire. The Boy-Who-Lived. The Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Fucking-Die. Whatever anyone might call him, he was just Harry. Just simple, depressed Harry. It was a shit being him.  
  
Expectations were to be lived up to. People depended on him, looked up to him, idolised him. What were they idolising? An icon made up by commercial beliefs? A pre-conceived notion of a saviour? To put the burden of saving the world on a child's shoulders was a distaster in itself. To expect him to know what to do with that burden was utter lunacy.  
  
Not many can handle being cracked. None can handle being broken. So it was safe to say that Harry wasn't handling it that great either. But in the end, who really cared how he was handling it? Because they weren't asking him if he was suicidal. He wasn't. They weren't asking him if it was all too much. It was. They didn't care how he was handling. He wasn't sure if he cared himself. Caring was a notion beyond those who would easily forsake the world if it meant he could get some peace. Peace was for those who are crowded even when they were alone. Yeah, he was alone. But some things never leave you alone. Things like guilt, anguish, hate, love, betrayal.  
  
So, no, in actuality he wasn't alone. He had company to entertain and he was doing so quite nicely. Feeding emotion with blood. A fine sight he was. Trying to save everyone and no one at the same time. Yes, he wanted to kill Voldemort, but for what? To feed the hate. The betrayal. Voldemort wanted to kill him too. That much was obvious. Only the bastard was willing to kill anyone in his way. Was Harry willing to do that? No. He couldn't. The ultimate sacrifice was innocence and innocence lost was only one more step into the abyss that was life.  
  
Was he expected to save everyone? Why not Dumbledore himself? Why not God for that matter? If he existed. For one who was expected to save the light he was a awfully familiar with the dark. The dark that not many actually knew. Harry knew the dark well. It was his friend in a way. His confidant and teacher. For hiding in the dark was easy and hiding in the light was, well, not very convenient. The dark involved deception, lies, manipulation and a lot of blood. Yes, Harry thought, an awful lot of blood. He cut himself again.  
  
So was he expected to save everyone? Harry Potter can't save anyone, he can't even save himself. Because he isn't some hero, or martyr. He's Harry Potter. A boy who likes to fly and is only slightly fond of blood. 


	2. Chapter 2

Slightly Fond of Blood  
  
Thank you to my reviewers, reviews brighten up my day.  
  
-WallyTheWhale- You did? Cool. One shot? Hmmm. I may continue now you've given me a branch. I'm not very good at Dumbledore, but I'll try for you later on. Thank you.  
  
-Who wants to know?- (me?) Thanks, I really enjoy writing Harry because that's how I think he would feel in his life (who wouldn't?) It doesn't seem sick to me... after all I wrote it. And I'm fond of it. Dumbledore's twinkle annoys me too, he will find out sometime though. Draco?... now that's an interesting idea. Thank you for that. School sucks. I completely agree. I've got holidays though (not gloating), have you?  
  
PLEASE READ THIS.... I'd really like to get some opinions here, does anyone not want it to be slash with Harry? There is some minor slash with two minor characters, no kissy kissy or anything, I promise just angst and unrequited love. Just speak up and I'll read your review with consideration. Please don't just flame me because you're feeling closed minded. If it does turn out slash with Harry, it won't be til way later on. He's too messed up now.  
  
---  
  
Chapter 2   
  
The blood had been cleaned up and his need fed. No disgust tainted his mind though, it wasn't disgusting, it was the purest kind of hate. Pure hate. Ha. No, he wasn't bitter, just slightly twisted. Ron's incessant knocking on the door was continuing. So he'd locked it, it's not as if he wanted someone to just walk in and see him cut. It was private. So private...   
  
"Harry! I need to go! Hurry up. Why is it locked anyway?"   
  
Harry sighed in frustration. "Ever heard of privacy Ron?" He shouted back before opening the door and letting the other boy fall through.   
  
"Harry!" Ron complained.   
  
"Just get on with it." Harry smiled slightly and brushed past him. Ron was amusing sometimes without even realizing it. It was refreshing. Almost as much as the blood. No, he wouldn't think about that now, it wasn't right for the moment.   
  
He fell heavily onto his bed. It was a nice bed. Red coloured. How utterly, ironically, strangely appropriate. Everytime after he finished his little deed he always felt disconnected, not quite grounded. Like he was on Muggle drugs or something.   
  
Not that he needed anyone to find out. Drugs would be minute in comparison to Sirius finding out about this. He winced at the image of the horror and disgust on his godfather's face that appeared in his mind. He couldn't handle that. Then there was Ron and Hermione. The shudders grew stronger. The disapproving look on Hermione's face, the disbelieving stare on Ron's. He shook himself. Shaking off the dread. No use worrying about what was going to happen. This was life.  
  
He hadn't slept much. A waste of time when all you're going to do is wake up sweating. Waste of water. Waste of blood. Nothing was there to cheer Harry up when he was beyond cheering. Seamus was quite asleep. Late night, last night. He'd come back from Hogsmeade drunk and muttering something about Dean going out with Lavender. Harry had comforted him and then put him to bed. He'd woken up with a hell of a hangover. Dean hadn't even noticed. It sure was a bitch falling in love and then having that kind of indifference. Harry felt the need to punch some sense into Dean, at least have him talk to Seamus. Even if he didn't like him that way he needed to explain that. Poor bastard Seamus was right now. Still Dean hadn't noticed. Some great friend.   
  
Not much in life put any hope in Harry. Especially not this and what Seamus would have to suffer through to get love and happiness. Not what he had to suffer through to gain love and happiness. Not when anyone found out what he did to himself, because they wouldn't understand. Maybe Remus might, Harry had seen the scars on the werewolf's arms. Maybe Remus would understand.   
  
Harry stared at the sleeping Seamus. No, there wasn't much hope for mankind at all. He felt the familiar need for blood. So soon? Usually he could go days at a time before feeling the need again. The needs were getting closer and closer, maybe it was a sign, an omen like the grim. He laughed quitely but humorlessly. All he needed now was Padfoot and he would be perfectly on his way to a bloody death. Now that would be a way to go, not under Voldemort's hand, not through fatigue, a nice bloody death under his own hands, under his own control. Yeah, it would be a bloody death.  
  
---  
  
End Chapter 2. Hope you enjoy. Don't flame. Especially about the minor slash because it can be easily ignored. 


	3. Chapter 3

-ckat44- You like it? No slash? Okay. I don't want any romance. I hope you didn't mind the minor slash in the second chapter. It always adds to the angst. Helps for a talking point. Harry will confide. I'm putting a little vote up for who will find out. (but I will be the deciding vote, I just want to find out who wants what and see what I can arrange). Thanks.  
  
-WallyTheWhale- Yep. I couldn't kill him. Sirius? Now that's an interesting idea. I'll think about it. Ron is lovely. Yep, he'd be bound to have a nervous break down under that amount of stress. Thank you.  
  
---  
  
Chapter 3  
  
No, he decided, I don't want to die quite yet. Things to do, people to see. He laughed at the stupidity of the statment. He was the boy-who-lived, worldfamous, he could do anything and see anyone. And he hated it. Because it worked both ways. People could do anything to him, and everyone could see him... It was hardly fair the way one person's life was exploited. Hardly fair at all. The cut was slightly deeper this time. Drawing more blood.   
  
Why was it that he always ended up doing this? It wasn't bad but he relied on it and he hated relying on anything. Dependence means death. Then again, wasn't that what he was looking for? Or not. As he cut again he thought of Sirius. It only made the cut deeper yet. The way Sirius would look when he found out. The way Sirius was always shouting at him. Always shouting. He hated shouting. Vernon shouted. Vernon hated him. Did Sirius hate him?   
  
Remus' face floated in his mind. It was becoming hard not to think of him now because Harry didn't like the way he always had to cut. Maybe Remus could think of a way. Who needed a way? He could just end it and the problem would be gone.  
  
This time he was in a classroom a little way from his last class. Transfiguration. People always expected so much from him. Why? Why him? Why not Hermione? She could actually follow through. He couldn't find the energy to get angry. It wasn't worth getting angry.   
  
He almost wished Ron were here to spill the beans to. Tell him what he was doing and let Ron deal with it. He entertained the thought for a moment before chucking it out. It wouldn't do any good. They would stick him in St. Mungo's. Probably leave him there to rot.  
  
Sirius wouldn't do that! His mind argued. But Sirius is always angry. Maybe he'll be angry that I'd do this. Maybe he'd be angry if he had a defective godson. Maybe he'll hate me. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. He hated the word. It was a load of 'what if's. Anything could happen. Exactly. Anything.   
  
Nothing hurt more than the thought of the disappointment. Because he knew it would be there. When he looked in their eyes. Saw what they were thinking. Their Golden Boy had let them down. He had let them down.   
  
He felt nothing at the thought. Like he felt all the pain and no pain all at once. It hurt. No one was listening. He was crying now. No one was there to tell him it was okay. He put another cut on his arm. This time deeper. There was a pattern if anyone dared to look. A pattern on the depth, the arrangement, even in the blood if you looked hard enough. In a strange way, it was beautiful. Beautiful.  
  
Harry's thought patterns were become hard to follow and it became difficult to think. The amount of blood was amazing. How would he clean up? Was the thought that entered his mind. But that was probably irrelevant. His world began to spin. And the last thought before the dark was that maybe he should've locked the door this time.   
  
---  
  
End Chapter 3 


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry about the shortness of previous chapters, but it was me wanting to update quickly and leave a little suspense behind with out dragging it out. HOPE THIS ISN'T TOO LONG :)  
  
-RAiNbOwGrL22- Hi, (I emailed you, hope you got it), neither do I really, until I write it. I know, I was kinda leaning towards slash but someone seemed quite against it and I was discouraged, but when (did I just say when?) it turns into a romance I'll probably consider it more seriously (Draco is just a sweetheart sometimes). Thanks a lot. See ya.  
  
-ckat44- Sirius and Remus would be nice, I admit but I'm not sure. You'll see. Longer? I suppose I can try. But updating may vary then.  
  
-WallyTheWhale- What can I say? If I were in Harry's position that would be what hurt the most. Sirius? I can just imagine his reaction. I wouldn't know whether to make him, well... angry or sad. Well, updating so soon is due to the fact that I haven't got school because I'm free for ages yet, because it's the summer holidays. Is it winter for you? Daily? Well, now I'm beginning to wonder if I have a life outside of writing, then I think, Nah! Who am I kidding? Thanks a lot.  
  
-Who wants to know?- I still do (want to know). You like my ideas? I'm flattered. Really. Of course I'll listen to your suggestions. I always do even when I disagree (makes me look at bit funny trying not to argue with them though). I'd never let my baby go crazy. It's kinda funny though. Slash is a well known friend of mine and I'm finding a huge dilemma in the fact that I hate flames and I know some of my readers are against slash (help!). You don't like HP/SS? You betrayer of the faith. Nah, kidding, sometimes I don't like it either. Especially when they don't do it right. Remy father figure? Hmm, ideas are hitting me at all angles. Oh no, not that listening issue again :). Sirius will find out, um, I just don't know when. I know I'm awesome. Modest too. Thanks. (Dumbledore might have to, but don't worry not now).  
  
-DemonBlade- Not cliche, well kinda, Sev is quite morbid, he always is. Emotionally attached? Yeah... but he's a lovely person.  
  
-demonlover- Yay! I gave someone shivers! I've always wanted to do that. I read your story, I reviewed it, it was cool.  
  
---  
  
Chapter 4  
  
Sirius and Remus were trying to find Harry. They'd been looking for a good hour by now. Ron and Hermione hadn't seen him since transfiguration, and they'd said that before dinner, now dinner had probably already begun and they still hadn't found the boy. Seamus Finnigan had seemed unusually concerned though. Strange. They'd thought he wasn't that close with Harry.  
  
Sirius had just arrived with permission from Albus. He had to stay as Snuffles though, but he was able to stay with Remus since he'd taken up the DADA position once more. The board had argued of course, but even they had to admit there were no other professors available - no one was applying for the position, with the experience Lupin had, not to mention he was a brilliant teacher, he'd been asked to serve as the Defense professor this year. From then it was his choice whether or not to continue.  
  
Hermione had said Harry had been looking rather restless during transfiguration and he'd run off afterwards telling them he needed to do something. Seamus had seemed apprehensive and worried after Remus had appeared in the common room asking for Harry. Sirius was anxious. You could see it in his steps. His concern for his godson was touching but irritating when Remus could feel the dog's expecting eyes on him.  
  
"Harry has probably gone to owl someone or something." Remus assured the dog. He could sense the sarcastic 'for two hours?' stare. The worry was beginning to infect him too, even though he knew that within the walls of Hogwarts no harm could come to Harry. No harm from Voldemort. There was no need to worry, he wanted to tell Padfoot. Only he couldn't quite manage to choke the sentence out.  
  
---  
  
Padfoot was worried. Very worried. He could tell Remy wanted to tell him it would be okay but couldn't. So he felt it too. Something was wrong. But it couldn't be, it was just his paranoia. He wanted to smile at his own silly anxiety, he dog-grinned instead. Sirius could visibly see Remus calm down when he saw he was relaxed. That he had that effect on his friend was amusing.  
  
Where was Harry? They'd looked everywhere. The owlery, the Quidditch pitch, the dorms, even the library (Hermione's suggestion)! Sirius bounded down the hallway towards the transfiguration classroom. Why, he didn't know. But maybe Harry was still there, detention or something. He heard Remus' start of surprise when he noticed the dog gone but left him to follow. He'd turned a few corners before reaching the corridor with the classroom. Sirius laughed inwardly, it would take Remus ages to catch up! As he panted down the hall to the door he smelt something strange. Recognisable. Blood. What? Harry? What?  
  
He followed the smell, he could tell it was Harry's. He was panicking. Padfoot nudged the door with his nose. On the floor, leaning against the desk, was the limp body of his godson, sitting in a pool of his own vivid red blood. He felt the need to be sick. Sirius immediately changed back to human. His face paled considerably. He rushed towards his godson. The blood was coming from his wrists! Oh, Merlin! The bile rushed up his throat again, scorching it. He put pressure on the cuts, closing them. How could he do this to himself?  
  
"Harry? Harry, wake up!" Sirius tried to wake the boy up, his eyes opened slightly.  
  
"Sirius? What?" His voice was croaky, his sight unfocused. His face drawn and pale with the pain. "No, please, Siri, leave."  
  
"What?" Sirius was confused and angry at the same time. Torn. Wait, what was he doing still here? He needed to get Harry to Pomfrey right away. He lifted him up and rushed him out the door. As light as a bird. What did he eat anyway? His father had weighed a ton.  
  
He bumped into Remus down the hall, quickly hurrying past him. "We have to take him to the infirmary!"  
  
Remus spun around. "What happened?"  
  
"I don't know!" Moony caught up and they were now both aware of the huge amount of blood. A very unhealthy amount of blood.  
  
Harry was unconscious in Sirius' arms and as he laid his body down on a bed and called for Pomfrey, he wondered how the young man had got this way. To this point. Without anyone noticing. Why didn't anyone notice? Ron or Hermione? Albus? Himself?! Why didn't anyone bloody do anything? His godson could very easily die. Die, dammit!  
  
Sirius sat down hard on the chair in the far corner of the room. He couldn't feel anything. For a moment he was angry at Harry for doing this, but he could hardly be angry. There was a lot of pressure on Harry and he'd done nothing to alleviate it. He'd been angry at Remus, when he'd found out. He'd shaken him and asked how he could do this to his friends. How he could do this to him. He'd thought Remy would just out on them any day. He didn't but that didn't make him any less afraid of the consequence should he do it. How he'd feel. He didn't even want to delve into that.  
  
He should know what to do! He should. He'd gone through it with Remus. Only Remus had never got quite this far. Pretty damn close, but never quite this far. Sirius buried his head in his hands. The sight of Poppy working to heal Harry's self-inflicted scars was far too much. Self-inflicted. He hated that word. Of all words. Because a lot of the time it wasn't you who caused them. For Harry it was the rest of the world. Sure, the knife wasn't in their hands but it may as well have been. His hands too, he wouldn't deny that he'd not noticed. Some might say he'd not cared. And maybe he hadn't. He almost hit himself. Maybe he hadn't. He did care though... but, obviously, he hadn't cared enough.  
  
He hadn't shown as much of how he felt to Harry as he should've. He didn't really spend much time around him at all. And the times he did... oh, bloody hell. What must his godson think about him? He was always comparing him to James, or yelling at him for endangering himself, only he'd never said that. He'd just yelled at him. He'd never said he was angry because he was worried. Oh damn it all to hell. Yet another messed up. He'd never told the boy he loved him. Now he might not get to. Sirius loved Harry Potter like his own son. Only he was James'. But James was dead and Harry didn't have a father. Not that he'd want Sirius as one now. Why had he told him to leave? Did he think he'd be angry. The man felt his own self-disgust again.  
  
Why, oh why hadn't he told the boy he loved him, not even once! Probably his pride, afraid Harry didn't want him as anything similar to a father. Damn his pride to hell then, because Harry was suffering now, and maybe because of him. Oh, there was no maybe, his mind moaned in agony. This was almost as bad as Azkaban. And that was hell.  
  
Sirius felt Poppy's presence above him. His eyes darted to his godson's body lying still on the bed.  
  
---  
  
Poppy had been surprised to say the least when young Harry Potter had been rushed in here by Sirius Black. Oh yes, she'd been informed of Black's innocence by Albus some time ago. But it wasn't the presence of Sirius that disturbed her so greatly, it was Harry's condition. Mr. Potter was severely cut up. All the way down his arms were red angry cuts, new and old. The deepest ones bleeding heavily. Her heart had jumped into her throat at the amount of blood he'd lost. This was certainly not a Quidditch accident.  
  
As she rushed around to heal him she was so angry with Albus. She'd told him to take off some of the pressure. As a healer she knew the mind and she knew this young man's mind could not take any more of the burdens handed to him by the wizarding world.  
  
She observed some white scars on his back while casting healing spells. They seemed old, inflicted by a belt, probably at a young age. Child abuse. Her mind spat out the thought. Disgusting behavior. She must inform Albus at some point. Hadn't happened for a few years yet it seemed, so it must not be recent. He was not going back there again if she could help it and she did have quite an amount of authority as a medi-witch.  
  
Poppy felt the danger leaving, Harry would get through this then. The question was, would he try it again? Most likely. Poor child. Or rather not a child.  
  
Now she had to steel herself for talking to Sirius, she could feel his mental anguish from here. She hadn't the heart to kick him out when she'd seen his face. He wasn't disappointed in Harry at all, more disgusted at himself. That was actually quite bad for him, but it wasn't going to hurt Harry anymore, the worst reaction Sirius could have would be to feel Harry let him down. Only at this point Sirius seemed to think he himself had let the boy down. What a disaster this could turn out to be.  
  
She approached the huddled man quietly. He looked up at her, eyes bright with unshed tears. He immediately stood up. "Is Harry going to be okay?"  
  
He asked quickly. "He'll be just fine." She assured him. "Although, he is distraught mentally, depressed."  
  
"I figured that." Sirius snapped before a guilty look spread across his face. "Sorry." He muttered.  
  
"Quite alright, Mr. Black. Why don't you sit next to Harry?" Maybe that would help. "Later on you can use one of the beds to sleep. I'm sure Harry would like a friendly face to wake up to. Don't scare him though." She said firmly, that wouldn't do at all.  
  
"I won't." Sirius swore.  
  
"Keep an eye on him and call me if anything changes, alright?" He nodded. "He's been given a sleeping potion so he won't be awake for another day. You may stay here." She gave him a nod and a squeeze on the shoulder before she left. The man needed a sleeping potion himself. Maybe she'd bring him tea sometime after Harry woke up with a strong sleeping draught in it. It would do him good.  
  
---  
  
Seamus was dreadfully worried. Harry hadn't come back tonight and he had a feeling Harry wouldn't be back for a while yet. A bad feeling. Something had happened. He'd check the infirmary tomorrow. If something had happened, Seamus had a sneaking suspicion that Harry might have done something to hurt himself. The other boy may not think he remembered the other night but Harry had talked to him when he was trying to get Seamus to sleep. And him talking to someone who he thought wouldn't remember what he said must've loosened his tongue. Harry sounded quite depressed and who knew what a depressed person could do. Kill themselves.  
  
Seamus' heart dropped right to his toes. This could not be happening. I'll find out in the morning, he assured himself. I'm probably overreacting. I'll find out in the morning. Morning might not come for Harry. Seamus squeezed his eyes shut.  
  
It wasn't in the way he smiled. It wasn't the way he laughed. It wasn't there in his voice. It wasn't even there when he was angry. What wasn't there? Happiness. It just wasn't. Despite the fact that he had friends. Despite the fact that he was well known. Very well known. What was there? Just knowledge. Not the book kind, like Hermione. The kind you get from seeing things you shouldn't see.  
  
Knowing things no sane person should know. Ways to kill people, to torture them, ways to kill yourself, when it would scar or bruise, how long people can scream, how long the Crutiatus could be held without the victim passing out. So many horrible things. The 'sleeping' Seamus had heard it all. He wasn't purposefully listening in, he just couldn't sleep just yet. Too busy thinking of Dean. Who couldn't be bothered thinking of him. What a waste of time.  
  
He'd heard all that from Harry and he wasn't sure he was the one who needed to hear it. Harry needed to be loved. Only he wouldn't let anyone in. It was such a sad thought that someone could sound so alone.  
  
Seamus could only hope nothing had happened to Harry. So he would hope himself to sleep. One could hope himself anywhere. But hope didn't do anything but make you feel better and the real thing did that a lot more effectively. Hope was Childs play, because life didn't evolve around hope. Life evolved around survival.  
  
So Seamus would be content with hoping for Harry's survival, because whatever he was doing right now was probably not doing anything to help that hope. So Seamus hoped because he could only pray it would hold until morning when he would see whether that little bit of hope had helped after all. Then he would find out if it was worth it, whether a little hope can make the world turn 'round.  
  
---  
  
End Chapter 4. Hope you enjoyed it, a little longer this time. 


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine. The song is Lifehouse - Fairy Tales and Castles. Not mine either.  
  
-ckat44-Better? Good. I didn't know how much I enjoy long chapters but they give you more room to move. To get something clear. When you say slash, you mean Harry slash? 'Cause I'm a slash writer so there has to be minor slash to keep me satiated. I hope you don't mind that? Please talk to me about that in your next (there will be one?) review. Sirius' reaction is how any normal person would react I bet. Mad at Harry? Maybe for not telling him, but not for being depressed and all that. Confiding in Remus, Sirius, or Seamus. Well, Seamus was actually an accident that wrote himself but it does make it a bit different. Maybe he won't confide in Seamus, Seamus just knows this. You'll see. Thank you. I'll try. Good.  
  
-Captain Mad-Hatter-I hate flames to! You love me story? Awww. Definitely. Holidays rule! Have you got a summer Christmas or a winter Christmas? (mines summer) Sorry, but I'm fascinated by that sort of thing. 'Cause I've never had a winter Christmas, always been boiling during Christmas. Rambles are cool. I tried.   
  
-angel74-longer is better. Neither can I. the Child abuse may be found out, most likely. I must. Here I am.  
  
-daintress-Darkest, oh dear. Okay, panic attack. I wrote a dark fic! wails. You worry for me? I'm touched, really. Don't worry, my well disguised auto-biography will involve toilets and crickets. Don't ask. I have bad experiences with both. Good experiences with Christmas though, can't wait for Christmas. Well written, yay! You enjoyed reading it, yay! You'll be back, yay! I will keep it up. Don't worry I'll take a look at your fics.   
  
-Who wants to know?- Good, it's awesome. It won't be ss/hp. Maybe a different fic. Yay, it's great. Dumbledore's thoughts won't come until another chapter. No talks, don't worry. I'll email you later, I'm a little busy lately, but I'll definitely try.   
  
-crazy-lil-nae-nae- Everything's going on. That's the point. Here's the new chapter, have fun. Please review. Thanks.  
  
-Hogwarts, A History Girl- Thanks.  
  
-WallyTheWhale- Yep, that was longer, I tried. I'm going to make it clear. There will probably be no Harry slash. I can't promise about any other characters (including Sirius and Remus) I hope it doesn't put you off. Remus and Sirius, they go so well together, so finding Harry seemed perfect. Thanks, my haircut went well, I like it.  
  
---  
  
Chapter 5  
  
Ron and Hermione had been worrying about Harry since yesterday, they'd even tried to get to the Headmaster, but his gargoyle wouldn't let them in and no one answered. It was safe to say that this morning they were a wreck. They'd gone to breakfast in hope Harry was there. He wasn't. Seamus had hurried off after arriving in the Great Hall.   
  
Professor Lupin arrived looking disheveled and tired. He approached them and the fear heightened. "Ron, Hermione, the Headmaster would like to you to come to the infirmary." They exchanged looks and followed the man out of the Hall but as soon as the door closed they bombarded him with questions.  
  
"It's Harry isn't it?"  
  
"Is he alright?"  
  
"What happened?"  
  
Remus just shook his head. They became even more worried for their friend. Who, evidently, wasn't okay.

(/)

_he says he looks in the mirror   
  
and he can't tell anymore   
  
who he really is and who they believe him to be_

(/)  
  
Seamus had rushed up to the infirmary as soon as he realized there was no Harry in the Great Hall. The stairs were leapt in twos. He bumped into Professor Lupin on the way, the man looked worn out.   
  
"Professor Lupin, what happened to Harry?" He asked desperately.   
  
"He's in the infirmary."  
  
"Why?"   
  
"Ask him that when he's out." Seamus instantly knew it.  
  
"He did it, didn't he? He tried to kill himself."  
  
Lupin looked at him with surprise. "You knew that?"  
  
"He was talking to me when I was... upset and drunk a few days ago. He thought I wouldn't remember. I did."  
  
"He's not awake yet."  
  
"Is Black with him?"  
  
"What makes you say that?" Remus had a small panic when he heard Sirius' name.  
  
"Harry talked a lot that night. I must talk back some time." He finished with a thoughtful look.  
  
"Go to the infirmary. Sirius will be there."  
  
Seamus nodded.

(/)  
  
_and he says he walks a thin line   
  
between what is and what could be   
  
and he's getting closer   
  
to something he can't understand   
_  
(/)

Harry had done something that could've ended his life and that wasn't something light. To say Sirius was concerned wouldn't sum up the half of it. To say he was ready to explode was more along the lines. Harry could've died. Died! What was he going to do about it? Nothing yet. Harry was still asleep. Poppy said he would wake up sometime this afternoon.   
  
Sirius heard the door open quietly and close gently. He turned slightly to see a somber looking Seamus Finnigan. There was no fear in the boy's eyes as they met, obviously he knew of him. He nodded in acknowledgement. Seamus nodded back.   
  
"How is he?" The boy managed to croak out. He sounded sad.  
  
"He'll be fine."  
  
"He's a strong person."  
  
"That he is." Sirius agreed.  
  
Seamus sat down on the other side of Harry's bed. He stared down at the still body for a minute before looking up at Sirius again. "Do you mind if I talk to him?" He asked.  
  
"Go ahead." Sirius leaned back on his chair, closing his eyes.  
  
"Thank you."   
  
There was silence for a moment before his voice began.

(/)  
  
_cause there's a crack in his plastic crown   
  
and his throne of ice is melting   
  
he climbed his ladder   
  
there was nothing there   
  
now it's a long way down_

(/)  
  
"You talked to me, Harry, when I was upset about Dean. Maybe you thought I wouldn't remember or I wasn't listening. I could hear. I think maybe what you wanted to feel was love. Lots of people want to feel love these days. I always wondered how many people didn't have families and wondered how lucky I was to have mine. I felt loved.   
  
When I came to Hogwarts I didn't have a lot of friends, people thought I was strange, I had a lot of energy you know? I always blew things up, McGonagall said it was excess energy. Dean was my first friend at Hogwarts. He thought I was funny, he laughed at my jokes. I guess it was intoxicating and amazing to have someone who actually believed I was worth being around. I don't know what happened but as I got older my awe in Dean became more, I loved him, I probably still do. You see, Harry, not a lot of people get love these days and those who feel it are especially lucky because they get to have a brush with it. I think you wanted to be loved Harry. Maybe fall in love.   
  
Falling in love is amazing. The first time you feel it is amazing. They say you always remember you first love and I think you do. I know I will. But we all find others and there is always someone in the world who loves us even if we don't know it. Sirius Black loves you. He's here right now. He can hear every word I speak. You know what? If you don't wake up today he'll still be here tomorrow. He'll be here the day after that too. And the day after that. I'll bet he'd still be here next year if you weren't awake. So, you see Harry, there is someone who loves you. He's kicking himself right now for not telling you. You said he's always angry. He's angry at himself right now. He was always angry, sure, but not at you, he was angry because every single one of those times he could have lost you. He was never angry at you."

(/)  
  
_cause on and on and on he goes   
  
dancing on the grave   
  
of what he thought was still alive   
  
and on and on and on he goes   
  
dancing in mansions made of twigs   
  
and castles made of sand_   
  
(/)

"If you look around Hogwarts you'll see, people love you here Harry. Ron and Hermione love you. They're fretting right now about you. I'm even willing to bet Professor Lupin loves you. Dumbledore keeps his eye on you. That twinkle is always sparkling when you're around. Hagrid would definitely miss you if you were gone. The Weasley's would miss you. Fred and George. Do remember what you did for them? They haven't forgotten. They may be immature but they'd be here in a second if they knew what happened. I love you. You know how I feel and you don't care what I am. I don't know you as well as I should but I know you are an amazing person."  
  
Seamus took a deep breath.  
  
"I'm not telling you it's wrong to be depressed because in your situation, who wouldn't be? I'm not even telling you it's wrong to want to be dead. I understand. I'm telling you that people love you. They love you more than I can ever say. I'm talking to you now because you thought I couldn't hear you, you told me everything. Now I'm telling you what I know, and I don't know if you can hear me, but if you can, I'm talking to you because once you talked to me, I can only do the same back."   
  
Seamus finished with a strong note and stood up. He nodded to Sirius again. "Thank you. Could you tell me when he's awake?" Sirius nodded back, his eyes grateful.   
  
Seamus brushed past Professor Lupin, Ron and Hermione, who gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze.

(/)  
  
_he says his head is filled with   
  
cartoons and fairy tales   
  
and he's trapped inside a dungeon of dolls   
  
with smiles on their faces   
  
he's built a pretty cage   
  
his show's on a beautiful stage   
  
with candy coated prison bars   
  
and chains that look like jewelry_   
  
(/)

Ron and Hermione were less than perfect. They hadn't noticed how their best friend was suffering. They hadn't noticed how Seamus was in love with Dean and they hadn't noticed that he was such an... insightful person. They hadn't noticed how they'd never really been around Harry when he needed it. Now they were noticing. And they were also noticing that maybe there were things that couldn't be fixed, but there were still things that could. They could be there for Harry. They could be there for Seamus. They could be there for each other.   
  
Harry had tried to live up to a perfect image his whole life. An image presented by the wizarding world. An image no person could live up to. Because that image was invincible. And no one was invincible. Everyone had just assumed he was perfect, he had a perfect life, he was free. He was more trapped than anyone else. He was trapped in the image named Harry Potter. No one really knew Harry.

(/)

_cause there's a crack in his plastic crown   
  
and his throne of ice is melting   
  
he climbed his ladder   
  
there was nothing there   
  
now it's a long way down_

(/)

They were beginning to see through all of his facades. All of his 'happy faces'. What they saw was sad. What they saw was someone who had no real meaning or purpose to life. To kill Voldemort. What a sad purpose. They hadn't known what he'd felt or dreamed of being. Because from what they knew after forgetting about 'perfect Harry Potter' Harry didn't expect to live past killing Voldemort. If one asked him what his career he'd pursue he'd be lost. Auror would be the first answer. Because Aurors killed Voldemort and that was his purpose in life wasn't it?  
  
(/)  
  
_cause he lives inside   
  
of fairy tales and castles now   
  
and there's room inside   
  
for false expectations and illusions   
_  
(/)  
  
There was so many things people expected Harry to be. Perfect was one of them. Heroic was another. Strong. A leader. Amazing. All things painful. To be a leader and never to follow. To be a hero and never be saved. To be strong and never be protected. To be amazing and never be rested. To be perfect and never to be normal. And the two friends had to admit they'd indulged in those expectations along with all the others. Indulged in the downfall of their best friend. Because they had only seen what they wanted to see. That was all anyone ever saw.   
  
(/)  
  
_on and on and on he goes   
  
dancing on the grave   
  
of what he thought was still alive   
  
hey on and on and on he goes   
  
dancing in mansions made twigs   
  
and castles made of sand   
  
cause on and on and on he goes   
  
dancing on the grave   
  
of what he thought was still alive   
  
and on and on and on he goes   
  
dancing in mansions made of twigs   
  
and castles made of sand   
  
cause on and on and on he goes   
  
dancing on the grave   
  
(on and on and on he goes) of what he thought was still alive   
  
and on and on and on he goes   
  
dancing in mansions made of twigs   
  
and castles made of sand_   
  
---  
  
End Chapter 5. That was draining. Is it too short, long? Dragging? I can't make the chapters too long because other wise I can't update regularly. Please review. 


	6. Chapter 6

Warnings: This seems to be turning a little more slashy than I'd first anticipated and I know I'm going to loose some wonderful reviewers if I follow what my writing's telling me. And I may have to do just that. Not quite yet though, so don't stop reviewing yet. And don't ever start flaming.  
  
-RAiNbOwGrL22- Thanks for your reviews and emails. See ya!  
  
-DeadRoses- Here's the next chapter. Dragging's okay. I know, the slash is bothering me a bit 'cause I really want to go ahead with it but not just yet. Shame I'll lose reviewers though.   
  
-crazy-lil-nae-nae- Thanks  
  
-Hogwarts, A History Girl- That's cool. Thanks.  
  
-ckat44- That's great, I was worried. I do care but I'm not sure about not making it slash, 'cause usually I'm a slash writer (exclusively slash), I'll warn you if I do. You'll see. Here's the next chapter.  
  
---  
  
Chapter 6  
  
"He was right, you know." Remus said, looking at Harry.  
  
"Right about what?"  
  
"That you would be here as long as Harry still needed you. That you love him. That I love him."  
  
"Never knew a kid could be that smart."  
  
"I never even noticed him during class." Remus sounded sad.  
  
"You're ashamed."  
  
"He deserved to be noticed."  
  
"Yeah, I suppose he did. He's in love." Sirius stated with certainty.  
  
"So young."  
  
"I was in love at that young."   
  
"Really?" Remus was surprised.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"You still remember them?"   
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I was in love once."  
  
"I never knew that."  
  
"Well, not many people would really love me back." Once again resignation crept into his voice.  
  
"Maybe they would."  
  
They were both sitting in the hospital wing. Hermione and Ron had left. Both torn up inside. They thought they'd betrayed their friend. No one knew but they felt it their duty to know. Harry could wake up any moment now and they were waiting.   
  
(/)  
  
There were many things in life Albus would do to achieve a certain goal. To rid the world of Voldemort. He'd killed, sacrificed and deceived his way to this goal. On the way he'd sacrificed the sanity of a young man. He was fifteen. Fifteen.   
  
There were many things Albus regretted. He regretted the deaths of innocents. He regretted the pain of loss felt by broken families. He regretted being responsible for the situation that young man was now in. He regretted causing it. Most of all, he regretted being someone the boy thought he could trust. Because maybe this wouldn't be so hard had he not been that someone. He'd prayed Harry Potter wouldn't collapse under the pressure. And truth be told, Harry Potter hadn't. Harry had. But he had to go on. There was the problem. He had to stand back on his feet again and realize that the pressure wasn't too much for him to accomplish the goal. That he didn't have to be perfect. Then again, in the view of the wizarding world he did.   
  
There was the mistake that came into the ultimate plan. Harry Potter was the only one who could destroy Voldemort. It was written in a prophecy. But he hadn't meant for the boy to become an icon. An idol. That would be wrong. Which was why, now, everything had gone wrong with that plan. Because the Boy-who-lived had turned into an icon. A cover boy. Something fixed and unchanging. Something perfect.   
  
He wasn't. He was just like every other teen boy. Except he had the power to kill Riddle. That was what made him different. But that difference wasn't a little one anymore. It was a crevice between him and the world.   
  
Poppy had informed him of his situation. The depression. The child abuse. There wasn't much he could do about it now, but alleviate the pressure and get him away from those Muggles.  
  
That's all he could do, so he would do it.  
  
(/)  
  
There wasn't much Ron had to be thankful for at that moment. That Harry was still alive. That Hermione was healthy. That his family were well. Those he could count. The things he couldn't count though... Harry's depression. His inadequacy as a friend. Harry's not being able to tell Ron. He could name so many more.   
  
Of course he felt guilty. He'd mistakenly called himself Harry's friend, he didn't know a think about his 'best friend'. He wanted to say he did know him inside out. He wanted to say that he was the best friend ever to grace the earth. He wanted to say that Harry's closest confidant was him. But he couldn't say any of those things without lying.   
  
Sometimes things don't change because you want them too. No matter how many wishes you make things won't change. Because what happened can't be changed. Miracles can't happen. Prayers can't be answered. Especially when you don't believe in God.  
  
Ron could wish the night away and nothing would change. That was the way it went. Action and consequence. Action and reaction. Whatever you called it, something happened. Something else happened because of it. It went on. This was a consequence.   
  
There was nothing more revealing than an incident such as this. Nothing that showed exactly how much people felt. How much they cared. How far they would go to save your life. Would they die for you? Would they care enough to give up something they held so dear? Or would they not? Would they discard you as lost? There was something to think about. Something to cry about.   
  
So many people were forgotten in the wave of death. It spread everywhere, all over the world, all types of people. All shapes and sizes. Babies die, children die, old people die. Some leave the world all too soon. Not living their life to whatever point of happiness they could achieve. Or maybe it was better that they died when they were still happy. Still young. Still oblivious.   
  
What really hurt is that some people actually wanted to die. Harry wanted to die. That stung. That he hadn't known, noticed or bothered to do anything about it.   
  
When he'd seen the healing cuts on Harry's arm his stomach had revolted. He'd been standing next to his still friend and he'd looked down. Ron could honestly say he was disgusted. So, really, wanting to die didn't hurt most, it was the fact that Ron was disgusted when he'd seen the cuts. When he'd seen what Harry had done to make the pain go away. It was a cry. A wail of absolute anguish. And he hadn't heard it.   
  
It was so loud too, it was in the way he looked, the way he laughed, the way he got up in the morning and woke up in the middle of the night. It screamed from every action. Yes, Ron decided, he was deaf, blind and deaf. Crippled in the worst way.   
  
(/)  
  
Seamus worried sometimes. He was surely in love with Dean but clearly shouldn't be. He worried about himself. Harry. Dean. Ron even. Ron was a worry with how overshadowed he felt. Dean was a worry because of how Seamus felt. Harry was a worry, Seamus honestly loved him as a brother even though he really didn't know the other boy well, his brother was suffering. That was a worry. That he'd almost died, and he'd probably do it again when he woke. That was a worry. That there was no one, really, there to hold him back.   
  
Sirius Black truly, really, deeply cared. There was absolutely no doubt about that. Just looking at him told you. Told you that he would go to the ends of the earth for this boy. But the only place Harry wanted Sirius to be was with him. With him. Instead of halfway across the country hiding god knows where in danger of arrest. There was a worry. There were so many worries. A worry for one to spend time dwindling away at. A worry to waste their life, so busy worrying that they forgot to live.   
  
Yes, Seamus worried, he did spend a lot of his time worrying. What he'd blow up next, who would be in trouble next, all sorts of things which worried him. If Harry was going to die. That was a sort of thing. A big sort of thing. Seamus didn't doubt Madame Pomfrey's abilities to save Harry from this, he was alive now. But it wasn't Pomfrey's abilities that were in doubt. It was whether Harry might decide another attempt was due. When he woke up. He could just walk out and off the edge of the Astronomy Tower. Or into the lake. Or another slash at his wrists. Or maybe even just 'accidentally' drop in on a few Death Eaters. Who knew what was going to happen?   
  
(/)  
  
It was ironic that when Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore, Ron and Hermione just happened to all be in the hospital wing when Harry Potter's eyes fluttered open. It was very unfortunate too. For Harry was not very happy. Harry didn't want to be here. He'd much rather be dead.  
  
So the fact that they were there was very unfortunate indeed. For the boy blamed the fact that he was not, as he had hoped, dead, on them. Which was actually quite accurate as he would be dead were it not for them. So his logic was on the right track, if not his complete sanity. But aside from the logic and slight insanity there was one thing Harry wanted right now, that was being held from him, it was to be dead. And when he saw the people responsible for that deprivation of that need there was not one fiber in his being that didn't hate them for it.  
  
"What am I doing here?" His cold voice informed the five of his awakening.   
  
Hermione leapt up. "Harry, you're awake!"  
  
"What am I doing here?" He repeated, barely sparing a glance at Hermione.   
  
Sirius took a step forward. "Harry we want you to live." He said softly.  
  
That was the wrong thing to say. The look in Harry's eyes made them all shiver. And when Harry spoke it wasn't calm, it wasn't calm at all.   
  
---  
  
End Chapter 6. Was that a cliffie? Was it? Was it? Sorry if you hate me for it.   
  
Thanks to RAiNbOwGrL22 for her help in getting my act together and keep on writing.   
  
Sorry if it's a little short.   
  
Merry Christmas! 


	7. Chapter 7

Slightly Fond of Blood   
  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine. The lyrics aren't mine. The song is 'Bother' by Stone Sour. Great song.  
  
Thanks to my reviewers: Who wants to know?, RAiNbOwGrL22, Elven Warrior1, angel74, SilverKnight7 and ckat44.  
  
---  
  
Chapter 7  
  
_Wish I was too dead to cry  
  
My self-affliction fades  
  
Stones to throw at my creator  
  
Masochists to which I cater  
  
You don't need to bother;  
  
I don't need to be   
  
I'll keep slipping farther  
  
But once I hold on,  
  
I won't let go 'til it bleeds_

(/)  
  
"I don't care what you want! You don't care what I want! I want to die! The world doesn't give a shit about what I want! And it doesn't care about what you want either! You should learn that, Sirius, there's nothing that will hold you up when you're falling!" An angry tear ran down his cheek. "There was no one there for me, they all thought I didn't need it! I would rather die than live in this world, it's a useless hellhole. You want me to live? Well, that's just bloody brilliant. I'll just continue surviving then, shall I? What a load of shit!"  
  
"Harry, watch your language!" Hermione cried, she didn't know what to do.  
  
Harry's furious eyes turned on her. "Who the hell do you think you are? You don't know anything! Don't you dare look at me like that! Like you even care! Yeah, I almost died! I would finish the job if you'd bloody well let me! Just leave me alone!" No one moved. He glared at them all, his gaze sweeping over every person.   
  
"Madame Pomfrey." He said quietly.  
  
The medi-witch came hurrying in. "You've woken! Are you feeling dizzy? I heard shouting, my patient should not be disturbed!"  
  
"Could you kindly remove these people, I'd like to get some rest." He was cold and calm once again.  
  
Madame Pomfrey ushered them out, a sad look tingeing her eyes. "You heard him, I don't want you in here causing trouble!"  
  
"Thank you." Harry collapsed on the bed. His eyes closing. He felt Madame Pomfrey's presence next to him.   
  
"Dear, you really should listen to them. They love you." He didn't answer.

(/)  
  
_Wish I was too dead to care  
  
If indeed I cared at all  
  
Never had a voice to protest  
  
So you fed me shit to digest  
  
I wish I had a reason;  
  
my flaws are open season  
  
For this, I gave up trying  
  
One good turn deserves my dying_

(/)  
  
He wished he'd been left to finish what he'd begun. If he were to place the blame he would place it on all of them. They were all going to cry their crocodile tears and their selfish acts of 'saving' him were useless. He didn't want to be 'saved'! They were bloody blind! They weren't saving him, they were damning him! Cursing him to this life.   
  
He knew Hermione would shed tears for him. He was beyond caring. He didn't know if he ever had. Hermione could cry all she wanted. It wouldn't stop him from wanting to be dead.   
  
Sirius. Sirius. Sirius. A tear slipped down Harry's own cheek. He'd already given up on Sirius. Sirius was just like the rest of them, he wanted Harry to suffer. Suffer through what one might call life. Some life.   
  
Madame Pomfrey said they loved him. Love was a word for the kind of pain he'd seen Seamus go through just a few nights ago. But then there were the other boy's words. The ones he'd spoken yesterday. About love. About Sirius. They were... something. They made him feel something he didn't want to feel. He didn't want to feel ever. He didn't want to care.

(/)  
  
_You don't need to bother;  
  
I don't need to be  
  
I'll keep slipping farther  
  
But once I hold on,  
  
I won't let go 'til it bleeds_

(/)  
  
Sirius sat on the stone ground outside the wing. Harry didn't seem to want him to care. He was right. Harry didn't want him as a father figure, Sirius had let him down. He'd let Harry hurt.   
  
No one seemed to want to look at the broken man. They stood, awkward and uncomfortable in the presence of the unbelievable sadness radiating from the man. Remus sighed. Sirius wasn't going to forget this.   
  
Sirius could feel Remus' eyes on him. The man was worried. He could smell it.   
  
"You should change into Padfoot." Remus said quietly. Sirius could tell it wasn't only because he was in the hallway, in plain sight.

(/)  
  
_Wish I'd died instead of lived  
  
A zombie hides my face  
  
Shell forgotten  
  
with its memories  
  
Diaries left  
  
with cryptic entries_

(/)  
  
There were so many messages Harry was giving. So many no one understood. Why didn't they understand? They weren't listening. Not to anything. Why weren't they listening? Because they didn't want to see what was right in front of them. They didn't want to disillusion themselves of Harry Potter. They still didn't see. Didn't understand. Why he'd done it, why he'd wanted to do it, anything. Maybe if they'd lived his life.

(/)  
  
_And you don't need to bother;  
  
I don't need to be  
  
I'll keep slipping farther  
  
But once I hold on,  
  
I won't let go 'til it bleeds_

(/)  
  
Sirius might have to be put on suicide watch if this went any further. Remus gave a ragged sigh. The strong emotions he could feel of the man were unhealthy. Sirius was usually easily depressed due to the time spent in Azkaban. This would send him spiraling. But he needed to be strong, for Harry, even if the boy didn't want their help.  
  
"You should change into Padfoot." He suggested, tiredly. It was not only because the convict was in view. It was because as Padfoot, he felt less. Remus knew that his friend feeling too much right now could be dangerous. For the man himself mainly. He might take a leaf out of his godson's book. Remus couldn't let that happen, Harry needed him too much. Remus himself needed the man too much. Far, far too much.

(/)  
  
_You don't need to bother;  
  
I don't need to be  
  
I'll keep slipping farther  
  
But once I hold on:  
  
I'll never live down my deceit_

(/)  
  
_They'll never let me out of their sight now. They know I won't tell them if I need to... feel better. Need to die. Need to not feel anything at all._ Harry sat in the Hospital Wing in silence. It was dark.   
  
He wondered at the restraining wards around the bed. Why were they so weak? Because he didn't have his wand? Harry waved his hand. The wands disappeared. There. Didn't they know how he did it? Of course not. He rubbed his wrists, they were itching even though they were healed.  
  
Harry swung his legs over the edge of the bed and quietly stood. It wouldn't do to wake Madame Pomfrey. It wouldn't do at all. Now, to go do what he had to.   
  
---  
  
End Chapter 7. Did I do good? I apologize for the cliffie last time, I've been informed that I actually managed my first real cliffhanger. I'm so proud wipes tear from eye. I'd like to thank my reviewers for always giving me inspiration, and my parents, for loving me, and my friends for always looking after me, and... Oh, wait, Sorry, just my little dream moment. composes self Okay, now that's over, please review! I need lots of reviews for motivation.


	8. Chapter 8

Slightly Fond of Blood  
  
ImmortalFlick  
  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine. The song belongs to Glenn Hughes and is 'I don't want to live that way again' (long, I know).  
  
Thanks to:   
  
Angelicdevil - Unusual? My meaningful conversations are some of the things I am proud of. Ideas are always food. I love food. I am favoratized (I don't think that's a word), coveted! Here's the next chapter, hope I didn't disappoint you.   
  
Riffinton - More than enough, thanks heaps.  
  
RAiNbOwGrL22 - I'm missing your emails, I'd better write another. I love it too, that's what gave me inspiration. Thanks.  
  
---  
  
Chapter 8  
  
_I kiss the day, there can be no other answer  
  
Turn back the time and let me in  
  
I look away, as they stare and all their glances  
  
Now I can tell you where I've been  
  
All alone inside myself  
  
I guess I never knew which way to go  
  
The time has come to know yourself  
  
And I don't want to live that way again,  
  
Again, again, again._

(/)  
  
Harry walked calmly up the stairs. If he couldn't slit his wrists properly he'd try a different way. And he'd keep on trying until he got what he wanted. It wasn't much. Just death.   
  
He wondered absently if there were any alarms on the Astronomy Tower but discarded the thought. If he was going to do this, then he'd do it, if the alarms went off, he'd just try another way. He heard the lake was icy cold this time of year. Maybe the squid would be hungry.   
  
Merlin, it was a long way down. It was like looking into his future though. All he had to do was jump. Not even that. Just step. Over the edge, a while of falling, then nothing. He could do it.   
  
He shuffled a little closer. _Just a little further_

(/)  
  
_I'm miles away, as I look into the water  
  
And there's a tide that pulls me in  
  
The missing page where there'll be the sons and daughters  
  
I live and die it's hard to take  
  
Safe within, this higher ground  
  
The pleasure and the pain has come and gone  
  
I have been once lost now found  
  
And I don't want to live that way again_

(/)  
  
"Siri! Where's Harry?" Remus' shouting broke Sirius out of his ball in the chair next to the fire. The man was at the door.   
  
"What?" The other occupants of the room, Dumbledore, Ron, Hermione, Minerva and the recently arrived Seamus, all looked up in surprise and worry.  
  
Remus opened his mouth to speak again but Sirius was already long gone.

(/)  
  
_There's a light in the distance  
  
And a voice that cries freedom  
  
There's a child in the mirror,  
  
Much too long he's been grievin'  
  
I have stumbled through madness  
  
Now I've made my decision,  
  
And I don't want to live that way again_

(/)  
  
He rushed up the stairs. He was following his own twisted, but usually correct, logic. Sirius always did that. By his thinking, if he'd slit his wrists and that had failed, the next best thing: the Astronomy Tower.   
  
He had to be there. He had to. Of course, Sirius would rather he wasn't trying to kill himself at all, that was wasteful thinking when, in reality, he was. Sirius was thanking whoever was listening that Remus had never gotten this far, as a child he never would've known what to do. He also desperately wished Harry had never come this far either.  
  
He understood. Harry may not think so, but he did. Sirius had lived through years of Azkaban. After coming out, he just couldn't be the same. Remus could see it, he viewed him as fragile, while that was sweet and kind of cute, Sirius could never allow himself to be thought of as delicate.  
  
Oh Merlin, there are a lot of stairs! Sirius cursed to himself. He was glad he wasn't too out of shape. He finally slammed through the top floor door. There was Harry, by the window. He wasn't too late! But he could see Harry's feet slipping closer to the edge. He dived forward, grabbed Harry by the waist and pulled him back into the middle of the room, holding him tightly in a bear hug.

(/)  
  
_So I pull down the shutters  
  
And I wave my resistance  
  
And I wait for the sirens  
  
That will ring through my head  
  
I was cast as a leper  
  
Now I've replaced my religion  
  
And I don't want to live that way again_

(/)  
  
"No! I don't want to live! Leave me alone!" Harry shouted and kicked at Sirius, who was holding fast despite the resistance Harry was giving. He held Harry to his chest tightly. The boy's fists pounding at him. He just held tighter until the shouts and kicks subsided into loud sobs.   
  
"I don't want to do this anymore. Life. I don't." Harry sobbed, his head buried in Sirius' shoulder. The man sat back against the wall of the tower. He rubbed Harry's back soothingly.   
  
"I know. It's okay." He just mumbled nothings until Harry's sobs got quieter.  
  
A small audience had formed in the doorway. Sirius waved them away. There was no use having people watching Harry's pain.   
  
Sirius could see Remus' sad look and Dumbledore's equally devastated one. Ron and Hermione looked stressed. Seamus was different though. He looked... expecting. Like he was waiting for something before he left. Harry still hadn't noticed there were people.   
  
He mumbled something. Sirius looked down. "What was that, Harry?" He asked gently.  
  
"I love you." Merlin, gods above! The boy loved him! Sirius was flying high. It took him a moment to gather the response he wanted.  
  
"I love you too, Harry."  
  
Sirius wasn't the ideal father. James would've been. But, as Sirius had been pondering before, James wasn't here to father Harry. Sirius, however, was. This was a very special boy, Sirius loved him, he could do it.   
  
He sighed in relief that Harry was alive. He wondered if he could keep him that way. Alive. To live. To love. To enjoy. All the things that Harry hadn't the opportunity to experience. So, Harry was alive. For how long? Was this the last time? Please make it the last time, he begged.  
  
---  
  
End Chapter Eight. Was it too short? Please review, I'm feeling rather neglected. The song was sorta from Harry's point a view. It's about addiction. But that's what it's all about, isn't it?


	9. Chapter 9

Warnings: Slight slash (not Harry slash). Attempted suicide. Cutting.  
  
A/N: There will be no Harry romantic relationships so no need to worry about him being slashed. I'm not in such a good state (very down) but I had to write this. I'm also upset because my characterization was 'lacking' as a reviewer said about another fic, so now I'm reading the Harry Potter books desperately trying to get a grip on her characters. I don't think it's working. I'm so sorry it's taken ages.  
  
Thanks to:  
  
Lucifer Frost - think hospital gown, but that's a funny picture. Thanks.   
  
Aiden Aterangelus - Cool, enjoy.  
  
FawkesRises - Thanks :)  
  
gopherisgood - blush Thanks heaps, enjoy this chapter.  
  
Riffinton - Yeah, so can I, with his life, who wouldn't be that sad? I know what you're getting at. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
And: Anon., Ace112, Shania Maxwell and Elven Warrior1.  
  
This chapter is for my loyal reviewer (and friend) RAiNbOwGrL22 - sorry it took so long and I hope you enjoy! Myths? Ouch, I've done those in English too, good luck. I sort of expected Siri not to either, but I had to let him live for the rest of the story (hopefully!). I've decided to try and branch this story out a bit. Hopefully I won't ruin it!  
  
---  
  
Chapter 9  
  
Harry had never been good at communication, whether it be because of the Dursley's lack of encouragement towards him as a child, or because it simply wasn't in his nature. Harry didn't see it as a problem, after all, he didn't see death as a problem. Communication just wasn't one of his requirements.  
  
That was the problem as he was sat down in front of a wizard psychiatrist. The man had a friendly face that Harry didn't trust for a second.   
  
"Now, Harry, can you tell me when you first cut?"  
  
Play along, play along, play along, his mind kept muttering, play along if you want to be able to get out of here. Do I tell the truth? He asked himself. No. No, the truth is beneficial to no one.   
  
"Yes sir. It was when..."  
  
Harry's mind drifted off as he only faintly heard his voice talking some rubbish about girlfriends and popularity.   
  
_Harry's mind was crowded with emotion. Cedric. Was. Gone. It hurt. It was his fault. He could see everyone bearing down on him. Blaming him. Kicking him.   
  
His eyes opened  
  
He deserved to hurt for it. To hurt the way he hurt everyone else. And maybe he could feel like he was getting what he deserved.   
  
There were many knives in the Dursley household and it wasn't difficult to get a hold of one. Especially since he did all the cooking. The chosen knife was small and easily concealed. But most importantly it was extremely sharp.  
  
As he held the knife to his wrists he thought about Cedric. It was always about Cedric now. He'd hardly even known the boy.   
  
When he cut he thought about pain. Pain was forgiving. Harry couldn't be forgiven.   
  
After he'd cleaned the blood away he thought about regret. He regretted ever having to stop. So he wouldn't.   
_  
"Harry, don't lie to me." The soft sound of the man's disbelieving words pulled him away from his memories and stopped his story in it's tracks.  
  
He looked up at the psychiatrist and smiled. "I'm not."  
  
He sighed. "If you don't want to tell me the truth, don't. But I can't help you if you don't."  
  
Harry was silent for a minute before he stared into space. "Maybe I can't be helped."  
  
(/)  
  
"It didn't go well." Dr Andre Gibbons told them, his face grave. "He won't talk to me." He didn't say any more in the name of patient confidentiality.  
  
Sirius groaned and hung his head. Remus squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.  
  
"What can we do?" Dumbledore was concerned. He'd never meant for things to turn out this way and now he was lost. He'd never been lost before. Not with a child.   
  
Gibbons turned to Sirius. "You can help."   
  
Sirius looked up. "How? I'm already doing all I know." Dumbledore's guilt grew with the man's words, this was breaking so many people.  
  
"You're his godfather, he loves you. Talk to him."  
  
"I don't know what to say!"   
  
"You will."   
  
"What if I mess up?" That was what Sirius was most afraid of. If he said the wrong thing, would his godson throw himself off the tower? He was already responsible, he couldn't deal with killing Harry himself.   
  
"What if you don't try?" Was Andre's only reply.  
  
(/)  
  
"Harry, how are you, kiddo?" Harry was sitting on the white hospital bed.   
  
"Not so great."  
  
"I miss you."   
  
Harry stared at him. "I'm right here."  
  
"No, you're not, Harry. You're somewhere else, and you're ignoring me." Sirius knew that maybe Harry wouldn't listen to him, but he had to tell Harry what he had to say.  
  
"When Remy was depressed, I caught him cutting and I shook him so badly he couldn't think straight. Neither could I. I didn't want to live life without my friends. After all, James and Remy were my life. I grew up in a pretty horrible family, the Blacks were obsessed with the Dark Arts. I didn't fit in. When I knew that Remy could leave me any second, he could just die and James would hate me because it was my fault. Then I would be alone. I was so mad. So mad that it was so selfish of me to want Remus to live so I wouldn't be alone. But I wanted him to live so he wouldn't be alone. I wanted Remus to live because he was my friend and I love him.   
  
I want you to live because you are my godson. I love you. And you have so much to live for. Remus loves you. And Seamus loves you. You've helped him a lot you know." Sirius looked at the boy. Harry didn't say anything.  
  
"He talked to me yesterday. He said some things that really made me open my eyes. I was thinking, you should hear them too. Did you hear him talking to you?" When Harry didn't answer, Sirius went on. "I don't want you to leave me, Harry. You and Remy are all I've got." Sirius' eyes shone briefly.  
  
Harry leaned back, his head sitting against the wall. "Really?" He asked, hope flashed across his face.   
  
"Really." He'd gotten through! Harry was listening!   
  
(/)  
  
Harry didn't know what to say. Sirius seemed sincere. He truly, genuinely seemed to care.   
  
"Thank you." He whispered.  
  
"For what?"   
  
"For everything." Yes, for everything, for being Sirius.  
  
"Anytime. Now, promise me you won't cut your wrists." Why did people always ask too much of him? Why were they always taking? Taking life out of him.   
  
"I can't." Say it like it is.  
  
"Harry," Sirius paused. Harry breathed. "If you can't promise me you won't cut, can you promise you won't try to kill yourself?"  
  
Requests. Orders. Demands. Questions. "I can't promise I won't want to."  
  
"But you won't?"  
  
"Not for the moment, no." He may as well leave it at that. The moment could mean anything and anything meant everything. Everything is what he had.  
  
"That is enough then." Harry had never known Sirius to be so agreeable, was he really that sad? Was he the one who had caused all this?   
  
"And if I did it again?" He had to ask.   
  
"Then I would be upset."  
  
"Upset?"  
  
"Very."  
  
"Yeah." He didn't know what to say. He never did. Harry was lost. He needed to talk to Ron and Hermione. He needed to talk to... Malfoy. Now, that was strange.  
  
---  
  
End chapter 9  
  
Any questions? Come on, you must have some. I've got somethings to explain in the next chapter (Seamus talking to Siri, Malfoy etc.)I thought that maybe I'd finish it, but I really want to continue with a plot. I felt like there wasn't one. So: Plot enters left stage. 


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: There's a bit of swearing in this chapter, it's just how I'd see he'd be. And no matter what I imply THERE IS NO HARRY SLASH IN THIS FIC. Okay? Just thought I'd clear that up because I'm introducing a new concept.  
  
Thanks to: FroBoy, The SilverLady.  
  
gopherisgood - Thanks! Great, I'll try for no Sirius slash, I don't think there'll be much romance in this fic at all. Thanks for the review!   
  
Aiden Aterangelus - Here's some more assurance, but don't worry, it's not the only stuff coming. Intrigued? Hm. I don't know if I'm living up to everyone's expectations with this chappie, but I'd love some feedback from you! Thanks!  
  
FawkesRises - blush Brilliant? Wonderful! Seamus and Malfoy, well, you'll see, I'm trying to further develop them (I think they're seriously underdeveloped in the books!). I get the drift. Thanks heaps!  
  
lucidity - Thank you. :D. You made me feel a hundred times better. Again, thanks and hope to hear from you again!   
  
angel74 - Everyone seems to be confused by Seamus. Why? I could say he appeared coincidentally (not saying he did) and would that satisfy anything? A big piece of the picture is actually missing (I could write a companion piece!). Oh and your Seamus-Harry discussion is in here. I'm sorry if Seamus' role isn't completely clear, but he's like one of those people who turn up when you need them ;). Nah, I'm not really sure (companion piece?). Draco enters for a reason that my twisted mind has made up. Hope it makes sense to you. Thanks!  
  
RAiNbOwGrL22 - Anytime, my friend. Cool, I'll check it out sometime. Do you? Is he nice? Thank you. Hope you like my Draco ;).  
  
Riffinton - Depressing, oh dear, this one will too though. I know exactly how you feel. I've always known I was extremely moody, but when I'm happy, I'm considered strange, people looked at me weirdly and asked if I was okay. There's my life. Thanks.  
  
---  
  
Chapter 10  
  
Harry dragged the knife across his arm slowly, his eyes closing. Nothing could touch him. No one could touch him. Harry knew what he was doing. He always did. And nothing felt better. He was scarring himself. It didn't matter. He loved the feeling of total release and relaxation that flooded over him. He loved the feeling of utter control.  
  
This was the one thing he had control over. Total control. He controlled where he cut, how deep, when, everything! Even when his life was spinning he still had this thread of control. And control was everything.   
  
Vivid images in his mind. Vivid pictures. Blood. Death. Voldemort. Cedric. Ron. Dumbledore. Gryffindor. Sirius. His parents. White. Remus. Black.  
  
His head tipped back slightly, his mouth open, he let out a sigh. He felt detached and loved it. No guilt as he thought of Cedric. No fear and loathing as he thought of Voldemort. No duty when he thought of Gryffindor. Nothing. Yes, he loved it. Harry laughed in a slightly hysterical way. If he couldn't yet have the release of death, he could take release in this.   
  
When he cut there was an absence of mind. A recluse of thought. Like someone had taken pity on him and given him a second to just be. To be.   
  
(/)  
  
Harry knew Sirius was in the next room, and he was probably wondering why he was taking so long. Probably dreading finding out. Putting it off. Unconsciously, of course.   
  
"'Ello Harry! How's the party?!"  
  
"You're drunk, Seamus, come on." Harry hoisted Seamus off the wet grass. Of course, it didn't really matter that the grass was wet, as it was pouring down with rain.   
  
"I'm not drunk, 'Arry! I'm fine here." He weighed a ton and he truly did seem to want to be back on the ground again. It took a minute of dragging Seamus back to the entrance for Harry to notice Seamus was crying. He sighed inwardly. His friend had been very down over Dean lately, this had to happen sometime.  
  
"How'd you get the alcohol anyway?"  
  
"Gred and Forge." The slurred reply came back. The twins. There was the obvious.  
  
Harry grabbed a couple of towels from the shelf as he marched Seamus into the showers and shoved him under warm water. He dried himself before leading Seamus back out of the showers to get a new change of clothes.   
  
"Harry?"  
  
"Yeah, Seamus?" The shower hadn't sobered the boy up, but that was to be expected, who knows how much he'd had? Seamus would have a mean hangover tomorrow.  
  
"Tell me a bedtime story." A bedtime story? What was he, a fairy godmother? Harry groaned.  
  
"Once upon a time there was a kid who's parents were dead so he lived with his aunt and uncle, who were both evil and hated him." Seamus wouldn't remember this in the morning anyway, so what did it matter what he told him?  
  
"They locked him in a cupboard, made him do all the chores and cook for them and their fat son. This little boy was a wizard but he didn't know that yet. His parents were killed by an evil man who called himself 'Lord Voldemort'..." Harry's story slowly progressed, Seamus was dozing away, but he continued. "But now Harry was depressed and he felt guilty, so he found a knife and cut his wrists."  
  
Harry could remember everything so clearly. What he'd done, how he'd felt. He didn't even know why he was speaking, Seamus' eyes were closed, his breathing even. But he kept speaking, until he'd told him everything. And he felt better for it. Like he'd let everything off his chest. How he felt about Sirius, how he felt about being the Boy-Who-Lived, about his life, the Dursleys, Voldemort, cutting, suicide, everything...  
  
The story from there was simple a few days later he'd cut too deep, and well, from there was stressful. To answer Sirius' question. Yes, he'd heard Seamus. He didn't know what to think. Harry knew Seamus wanted him to live. Sometimes Harry wanted himself to live as well.   
  
(/)  
  
After it was all said and done, which it never was, maybe Harry would understand why he shouldn't have cut in the first place. Maybe when the world understood why he did, he would understand why he shouldn't have. This was irony in it's purest form and it taunted him until he couldn't stand it.  
  
But even Harry had to admit, if he was expected to kill Voldemort, he may as well do it before he died, and that required a reason to live. As much as he didn't want to. And although he didn't know it, he needed to talk to Malfoy for a reason that may not be understood at all, until he was ready to see what he was blinded to.   
  
"Harry! Harry, not again!" The pounding on the door said it all. Harry scowled. How long had it been? He stared in wonder when a quick spell told him he'd been in there for half an hour. Sirius had given him a lot of leeway. Surprising. Shocking, really. And undeniably strange. But Harry gave it a little thought afterwards and realized that Sirius knew Harry would continue cutting and accepted it. Unexpected. Very unexpected. Un-Sirius, one might say. Harry took it at face value and cleaned away the blood on his arms with only a hint of regret, before opening the door.   
  
"What?" May as well ignore it.  
  
Sirius just sighed in answer. He hugged Harry, suddenly, his grip tight.  
  
"What was that for?" Harry asked, curiously, after he was let go.  
  
"I'm just glad you're still here." Sirius let out in a long gusting breath.  
  
"Are you going to do that every time I go to the loo?"  
  
It made him crack a smile. Harry smiled back.   
  
(/)  
  
Harry wandered down the hallways. He'd been away from classes for a while now. He was pretty sure most of the teachers knew why. Most of the students too, unfortunately. Gossip got around too fast. The student body was obviously not too enamored with 'Harry Potter' to believe him above the simple self-mutilation, as he'd overheard Pomfrey calling it. More like refuge. Harry snorted. They didn't understand.  
  
Ron and Hermione had visited him once, this morning. Ron had talked a lot, but Hermione didn't have much to say, other than sending him a few tearful glances and a hug at the beginning. People seemed to hug him a lot lately.   
  
It took him a dazed moment to realize he was wandering the dungeons, another fearful second to wonder where the hell he was. Harry rolled his eyes, he always ended up in situations like this. Slytherins and Snape haunted these parts of the castle, not the likes to ask for directions. Especially if you were Harry.   
  
It wasn't until he'd stumbled across a small figure he realized exactly why he'd turned up down there. It wasn't until he saw something he was sure he shouldn't have, he knew why he needed to be there. Harry had stumbled across a huddled Draco Malfoy.   
  
The body untangled itself so fast it was hard to tell who was more surprised, Malfoy or Harry?   
  
"What the fuck are you doing down here?" Was the immediate response from the disheveled Slytherin.  
  
Harry was too stunned to respond.  
  
"Well?" The words were more calculating and cold than before.  
  
"Do I need a reason, Malfoy, this is Hogwarts too, you know?" It was, Harry realized, the dungeons were part of the school, a part he'd never really associated with Hogwarts before, mainly because the Slytherins dominated it so fully it was hard to connect with the rest of the inhabitants.   
  
"You're Harry fucking Potter, you don't belong down here!"  
  
"What are you doing?" Harry asked, ignoring the other boy's comment.  
  
"What do you mean, what am I doing? These are the dungeons!" The confused and infuriated response came.  
  
"Yeah, but what are you doing?"  
  
There was a short silence. "I-I don't know." The fury had drained and the confusion had taken hold.  
  
Harry gestured to the corner Draco had been occupying just moments before. A flood of blood rushed to the boy's cheeks. "None of your business!"  
  
He stared, a small smile on his face, Harry looked at the boy in disbelief, feeling more alive than he had in weeks.   
  
"Well, Malfoy, considering you haven't insulted me or my friends yet, I'd say something pretty serious is wrong."  
  
"Oh, and you think I'd talk to you about it?" The snarl of sarcasm was quiet but clear.  
  
"I'm listening."   
  
This only served to frustrate him more. "It's none of your fucking business!"  
  
"I hear your father wants you to be a Death Eater." He suggested.  
  
"How did you know that?" A quick and scared reply was the only indication Harry needed.  
  
"He does?" He breathed, he'd only taken a shot at the possibility. "You're only fifteen."  
  
"I'll have you know, my father was sixteen when he was Death Eater." The blonde haughtily responded.  
  
"Oh stuff that, Malfoy, I've seen what they do, it's crap!" And it was.  
  
"It is not!"  
  
Harry was actually surprised he was giving away so much about his father, but then, anything Harry said could easily be discarded by however many hundred lawyers Lucius Malfoy owned.  
  
"You don't really believe any of that crap, do you?"   
  
He seemed to deflate. "Who says I don't?"  
  
Harry smiled at him, reassurance ready in his gaze, but unsure in it's stance.   
  
"Do you?"  
  
"Potter, you're a bastard and I hate you."  
  
"You know what? I hate you too, Malfoy, and I pity you." Harry didn't know if that last bit was meant to be a barb or not, it didn't really matter.   
  
It was time to leave, he knew which way was back, he recognized this hallway, it was a few to the left of the Potions room. Harry had to wonder what Malfoy was doing in this particular hallway, then again, it was as good as any, he supposed.  
  
Malfoy didn't shout anything after him, nor move from his place, standing in that corridor. And Harry didn't know it, but he didn't move for another hour.   
  
(/)  
  
He wondered, what made him pity Malfoy so much? It occurred to him that in a way, the boy's life was as pre-determined as his. He was going to spend the rest of his school years as a Death Eater, then go on to stand beside his father in Voldemort's inner circle, and finally replace him, unless, it was quite likely, he died before reaching such a place. Killed by a few aurors maybe, or Voldemort himself. He didn't seem to have any qualms about murdering his minions.   
  
It was then he noticed that he'd thought he had to talk to the prat earlier. Of course, at the time he was confused as to why, but now he might understand. It was for people like Malfoy he had to keep moving for just a little bit more.   
  
"Just that little bit more," He whispered to himself. "Just that little bit more."  
  
---  
  
End of Chapter 10  
  
Okay. Hm. Strangeness. Hope you enjoyed though. Reviews? Love 'em. Someone said it would be strange to introduce Malfoy now, but not really, well, think what you will, but you'll see... I dunno what you'll see, but you'll see. Oh, and there's the Seamus-Harry drunk night thing. The Seamus-Sirius conversation that occurred a while ago will be in the next chapter. Plus a few more things I have yet to explain and a little of the new. 


	11. Chapter 11

Thanks to: btvss7, invisiblegirl, SheWolfe7, FroBoy, TheSilverLady   
  
Imortallove9 - as much as I adore your suggestions, sorry, not in this fic, though there will be more of Malfoy.  
  
Peeves Gurl - thanks so much!  
  
gopherisgood - thanks, that was a great idea, I could use it.   
  
Aiden Aterangelus - yeah, Harry's relationships are actually turning out quite skewered. Romantic? Hm. We'll see. That might be open even in the end.   
  
Nemati - there will be more of Remus later on. Rumors fly, and when Sirius and Remus were taking him to the hospital wing people were bound to have spotted them, plus Herm and Ron could've been overheard, I'll leave it to your imagination. Malfoy will appear more later.  
  
Ankalagon - Harry isn't/will never be pathetic; down trodden, maybe, bitter, definitely, hurt, inevitably, but not pathetic. Thanks for reviewing, it was good to hear your views.  
  
RAiNbOwGrL22 - Draco is wonderful, isn't he? You'll find out what he was doing in the corner later on. Talk to ya later!  
  
Riffinton - Good. Sleepy? What book? Here's more!  
  
lucidity - I think Harry cares about everybody, he can't help it. Thanks!  
  
---  
  
Chapter 11  
  
"Harry?" Hermione was sitting at his bedside. Harry had returned to the hospital wing at Sirius' request. To say he'd been reluctant was an understatement. Harry was sure they'd drugged him. Sirius said it was only for a little while longer. He noticed the man didn't say what it was that was only for a little while longer. That made him suspicious.  
  
"Yeah, Mione." His lazy speech made him realize exactly how tired he was. He hadn't slept a full night's sleep in... how long?  
  
"Why did you cut your wrists, if you didn't intend to die at first?" This was said in a rushed blurt, as if she thought it was too bold a question. It was. It brought up memories he didn't want to face, memories he didn't want to remember but couldn't help replaying in his mind.  
  
Harry was surprised when he responded, quite unintentionally. "At first, I didn't cut my wrists, why would I? I didn't want to die." No, he hadn't wanted to die, he just wanted what he could never have, wanted the power everyone else had over him. "At first, I cut my thighs, then my arms, upper arm and all that." He tugged up the sleeve of the stupid looking gown, revealing closed, mostly healed scars. Hermione's wince didn't escape his notice.  
  
"Then," he gazed down at his arms, pausing slightly. "then, my wrists, but, that was different..." He trailed off. There was something tugging at his mind. Something strong. Like the Imperius. Like... "What did you do to me?!"  
  
Hermione's guilty face said more than enough.   
  
"What did you do?" Harry felt strangely violated, weak. He pulled himself up and off the side of the bed, his legs wobbly, feeling like he would topple any second.  
  
"Veritaserum, it was just a drop, I promise, it was only meant to relax you a bit." Hermione was pleading with him, she'd stepped away from the bed.  
  
"Veritaserum?" Harry's already quiet voice dropped an octave. "You put veritaserum in my food?"  
  
Hermione nodded. "It was only meant to relax you a bit," she repeated.  
  
"Relax me? Relax me! It's veritaserum! If I wanted to tell you all that, I would've told you! Don't go sticking your nose in my life!" Why did everyone have to force themselves into his business? Why did they always have to control him? What right did they have? To interfere with his life, to manipulate him! How dare she?  
  
"I won't do it again! I just wanted to know-"  
  
Harry cut her off, her frightened look, directed at him, wasn't penetrating his raging mind. "I don't care what you 'just wanted to know', I didn't want you to know! How dare you?"  
  
"Mr. Potter, calm down at once." Harry spun around, fury dancing in his eyes. McGonagall was standing at the door, looking appalled.   
  
There was no moment of hesitation. "You stay out of this!" He either ignored her disbelief or it didn't register at all, because he'd spun back around again before his professor could say anything else.   
  
"How dare you mess with my life? You have no right-" Suddenly, as if he'd been struck by a brick, Harry's eyes glazed over and a cry of surprise was uttered by Hermione as he collapsed.   
  
Minerva rushed forward to catch him as he fell, and she quickly laid him down on a bed.   
  
"Miss Granger, fetch the Headmaster immediately." Hermione fled.  
  
(/)  
  
The professor checked Pomfrey's study, where had she disappeared off too? She was needed here! She hastily took note of Harry's life signs again, a sigh of relief sounded when she felt the shallow breath, but once again panicked when she realized the pattern was irregular.   
  
"Minerva, sit down, I'll take it from here." Albus' voice calmed her. She moved aside as the Headmaster entered, followed by Poppy and Miss Granger.   
  
(/)  
  
The nurse also seemed to flare up with concern when she checked over young Mr Potter. Then her quiet but urgent voice met the ears of occupants.  
  
"Albus, get Severus here, quickly." It was then, that the Headmaster's heartbeat truly raced.   
  
(/)  
  
"What have you done to the boy?" Came Snape's hissed question directed to the teary Hermione, who was being comforted by Ron Weasley, who had arrived sometime after McGonagall.   
  
"It was only a little veritaserum! I just wanted him to talk to me!" She burst into tears for the second time in the past ten minutes.   
  
"Veritaserum?" A fast hand swooped into one of the deep pockets in his robe, reappearing with a pale blue vial. The smell was putrid when the stopper was removed, causing even Albus to wince, Snape ignored it, propped the boy up against him and opened Harry's mouth. And, with out a moment of hesitation, he tipped the entire vial down his throat and forcing him to swallow.   
  
Ron looked on with fascination, and a clear disgust at the stench.   
  
Poppy quickly moved in as Harry began to convulse, Snape holding him in place. "Don't cast any spells on him."   
  
"What did you give him?" Ron's outraged cry caused the man to look up.   
  
"He is allergic to veritaserum, Weasley, do you know what that means?" He didn't wait for an answer. "It means he could die. Now, unless you want to stay here, only serving to irritate me further, I suggest you leave."  
  
It was only appropriate, that said, that Seamus, Dean, Neville and Ginny should rush into the hospital wing, having found the reason for Dumbledore's quick departure from dinner. The gaggle of them, breathing heavily, were now staring wide eyed at the situation occurring in the hospital wing.   
  
"What is this? Leave." It was Snape giving the orders, and giving them sharply.   
  
The horrified look on Ron's face and the guilty and tear streaked eyes of Hermione was enough to make the new arrivals drag them out, demanding to know what was wrong with Harry and why he was having a seizure.   
  
"Poppy, do you have any..."   
  
The voices were low in the room, it was when you could no longer hear the bed complaining under Harry's uncontrollable movements that the eavesdroppers outside panicked. It was when a deafening silence overtook the room and hallways around it, that the audience froze in pure fear and worried anticipation. Hermione let out a choked sob.   
  
"He'll be fine." Was the quiet sentence, uttered softly but the black haired man in the doorway. The Potions Master.  
  
Hermione broke down, this time relieved and thankful tears. "Miss Granger, next time you decide to go serving highly dangerous potions, such as veritaserum, to friends and family, there will be very little to keep you from being expelled. An allergy to the truth drug is rare, but it does exist, there are some very... unsavory side affects, as you would know, had you read the text properly and paid attention in class. For seriously endangering the life of a student, 100 points from Gryffindor."  
  
A few shuffles from the surrounding, unsettled Gryffindors. No protests.   
  
Snape swirled with his trademark billowing robes and stalked away. The moment he disappeared around the corner, the group all turned slowly to face Ron and Hermione, who had both lost the colour in their faces.   
  
(/)  
  
Sirius knew, the moment he'd seen Albus' face, he knew. And it was an intense flow of relief, for once, to know he was wrong. Harry would be fine. He hadn't done it. He hadn't managed it. Although, Sirius guessed, not from lack of trying.   
  
"So Snape fixed him?" The disbelief colouring his voice was obvious.   
  
"Yes, he did, and was furious about the fact that it had occurred at all." The Headmaster's not quite patronizing tone didn't irritate him, as he was too wrapped up in his wonder.  
  
"That greasy git saved my godson, Harry James Potter?"  
  
"Yes, Mr Black, and I would appreciate it if you would refrain from insulting my staff members."  
  
"I don't believe it."  
  
"No, Black, I believe this is something around which you wouldn't be able to wrap your simple minded brain."  
  
Sirius glowered while Dumbledore twinkled away with only a hint of disapproval.   
  
"Welcome, Severus."  
  
Snape just nodded in reply, which seemed enough for the Headmaster.  
  
"Well, Sirius, a visit to your godson might be in order." A pointed look coupled with the suggestion sent the younger man on his way.  
  
(/)  
  
"Sit." Albus gestured to the seat, at which Snape sent a remotely disgusted sneer before ignoring the chair and standing by the window.  
  
"He has been active. There have been several attacks in the past week."  
  
"An unusual amount, to be sure, is it keeping him distracted?"  
  
"We can't sit around letting him go on about his business, Albus! We have to do something, take initiative!" Snape was more passionate about this war than he was about even his potions, he had motivation beyond what many could claim.  
  
"You know, as well as I, that taking the initiative could mean many more lives than I am ready to commit to the cause. We must wait, they prophecy tells us so."  
  
"The prophecy! Have you even seen the damn thing?" The anger clear in his voice, Snape spun around, his robes, once again, billowing dramatically.   
  
"Do you doubt me, Severus? There has been very little to say we can defeat Voldemort without young Potter's help, and unless you are willing to send thousands to their death, which I am not, then you will just have to be patient and help Mr Potter as opposed to hindering him."  
  
"Hindering? Hindering! Being here is hindering him!"  
  
"Do I sense some concern in your voice, Severus?" The only thing that kept Snape from a quick exit was that Albus was, in fact, completely serious.  
  
"You know why I have to win this war, you know I will do anything to achieve that goal, and you know I can and will train Potter myself if I have to."  
  
"Wonderful."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Wonderful." He repeated.  
  
Snape sent a confused glare his way before leaving, taking the comment as a dismissal.   
  
(/)  
  
Dumbledore sat alone in his dark office. His deep thoughts not striking a reflection in his eyes. The prophecy bothered him, as it bothered Severus. There was nothing he could do about it though, besides assure the outcome would be the correct one. Given young Harry's current state, the pressure of the words would not be risked. Albus found it interesting how much he'd become attached to the boy, considering he needed to be alive for Voldemort to be dead, that may have been a good thing.   
  
(/)  
  
Harry opened his eyes to black. Darkness surrounded him, though the feel of the bed clearly defined the room as the hospital wing. His body ached and he almost called Madame Pomfrey to stop the pain, he stopped himself when he realized that he welcomed the feeling. It told him of his realness. He was real. This was real.   
  
Hermione. Hermione. Why? It hurt him more than he could imagine, more than he was feeling right now. Harry thought he didn't need his friends once. He thought they had no control over him. This proved that they had everything. They had power. They had control. He had nothing. He used to go to them when he was upset or angry. Just before he'd wanted to talk to them. Now... now he wasn't so sure anymore. If Hermione would do this, what about Ron? His first real friend. His wheezy. Harry loved Ron, he loved Hermione. His heart ached. It took him a while to realize what made it hard to breathe. Harry bit his lip, his eyes squeezed shut.   
  
Blood. He needed blood. He needed to hurt. He needed control. He needed power. He needed -   
  
He needed nothing. He needed death. Sirius. Sirius said - what did Sirius say?  
  
Harry found that something tore at him when he realized that he couldn't remember what his godfather had said.   
  
A whimper escaped his mouth. This was too much. He was too weak.   
  
(/)  
  
It was when Poppy heard the heavy breathing in the next room that she woke. Then came the whimper. The only student in the hospital wing at the moment was Mr Potter. Oh, the poor boy, he'd been through so much. She considered giving him another sleeping potion but decided it would only cause prolonged pain. And that was not something the child needed.   
  
Severus' competence yesterday had surprised her. Miss Granger's carelessness had disappointed him greatly, he believed her a capable student and that was rare. Poppy knew that Miss Granger would no longer be placed so highly in the man's mind. His fast actions were what had saved Mr Potter's life. Poppy was loathe to admit that a part of her had expected him to sit back and watch the boy suffer. She was ashamed of that even entering her mind. Severus had paid his penance a hundred times over and had saved more lives than she'd ever thought possible. His potions abilities were many and he was, though most of the students were unaware, considered the best Potions Master in history.   
  
As another whimper sounded Poppy made up her mind. The poor child. She took a deep breath and opened the door. The sight of young Potter curled up was heart-breaking.   
  
The nurse said nothing, she sat next to the bed and took his hand. Some students, the more reckless ones, said she had an ice heart and an iron grip, but as a school nurse, you needed that.  
  
Poppy Pomfrey sat at Harry Potter's bedside for the rest of the night. It was Poppy's worry and Harry's pain in which both dwelled. Neither of them slept.   
  
---  
  
End of Chapter 11  
  
Well, hopefully an acceptable length. I tried, I really did.  
  
Review... 


	12. Chapter 12

AN: Hey there! I was thinking about where I want this to go and I've decided I want to finish the story properly. With Voldemort. I hope you've the strength to hold with me on this.   
  
Many thanks to: Becky, none, Saavik13, Wynjara, FroBoy, Riffinton, Uranium, LuluIsALobster, Lucidity.  
  
RAiNbOWGrL22: Here's another pretty long chapter. Take note - Ron had no part in it, I promise.   
  
Peeves Gurl: Madame Pomfrey will pop up again, don't worry. Thanks!  
  
SheWolfe7: Thanks! Dumbledore is plotting, doesn't it irritate everyone? Voldemort is making his appearances in a few chapters.  
  
---  
  
Slightly Fond of Blood - Chapter 12  
  
Sirius sat next to his godson, Harry's arm in his hand. The man's callused fingers traced the old and healing scars on his wrist. A grimace appearing when he saw a new one, which shredded his heart into smaller pieces.   
  
"Hey Harry." He whispered. "I have a secret. You know what I found out? Remus was in love."  
  
There was no answer and Sirius didn't expect one. Poppy had said the child was exhausted, he wouldn't be up until late.  
  
"When we were in school he was such a tiny teenager. We thought he was being beaten up when we saw the marks that he gets on the full moon. I was so angry I kept hounding him to find out who it was. I thought he was protecting someone. He was protecting himself. I should've left him alone." A note of regret was in Sirius' voice. A tinge of sadness.  
  
"Then there was the cutting. Just like yours. Just like you." The last part was barely aloud but mouthed as his throat blocked up. He leant back. "You and Remus get along so well, better than us even. He'd make a great father." At this point it wasn't certain whether he was talking to Harry at all, staring out the window, his eyes suspiciously shiny, Sirius shook his head and looked back at the sleeping boy.  
  
(/)  
  
"We can help him!" Ron sighed at Hermione's frustrated yell.  
  
"Hermione! What you did was wrong!" For the ninth time.  
  
"Ron, why aren't you listening?" Hermione spun around, her eyes pleading.  
  
"Herm," He began, quieter this time, "what you did was wrong. Worse than anything we've ever done before. Harry is not going to appreciate you feeding him veritaserum just for your personal need-to-know. You messed with his head and I'd hate you for it if I were Harry!"  
  
"So you hate me?" Ron sighed again. This just wasn't getting through.  
  
Ron understood why Harry was so angry, he could see how what Hermione had done was a major invasion of privacy, and Harry was really protective of his privacy. Hermione just didn't seem to understand why it was so wrong.  
  
(/)  
  
Harry mind wandered around. Back to his cupboard under the stairs.   
  
His first time on the Hogwarts Express.   
  
_Green light.   
  
Sirius.   
  
The graveyard.   
  
Transfiguration.   
  
Remus.  
  
The third floor corridor.   
  
Detention with Filch.   
  
The Halloween feast.   
  
Double Potions._   
  
Harry wasn't sure where he was anymore. He didn't want to wake up. Sirius' voice was in the background of his mind. It felt like everything was soft grays. He didn't want to face the blinding white roof of the infirmary. He didn't want to face their hugs and words.  
  
_Coward, you filthy coward_ A nasty voice tore at his defense. _What you've done is your responsibility, so take responsibility!  
_  
Harry knew there was no answer to how he felt about life. It was like he wanted to die but he didn't. He wanted to be let go but he wanted to stay. It hurt so much he felt like something was stabbing him in the chest.   
  
Harry gasped and awoke, sitting straight up in the bed. He was sweating, his temperature through the roof. It was dark. The door opened and Harry's heartbeat jumped up once again.   
  
"Oh, poor dear." He heard her muttering as she reached into the cabinets opposite the bed. He couldn't see anything though, he wasn't wearing his glasses.   
  
"Take this." He heard her again and felt a potion being put into his clammy palms. Harry downed it quickly and felt the cold burn down his throat. An immediate sense of calm washed over him and he let himself be pushed gently back to the pillow. Still feeling unsettled he drifted off to sleep.  
  
Half an hour later Poppy checked the boy's temperature and found it to be normal. She breathed a sigh of relief.   
  
(/)  
  
Severus wondered on how he'd put himself in such a position. How he always did this to himself. He had no hero complex, no particular drive to torture himself.   
  
First things first though. The boy may be completely ruined for a real life but he was not ruined for this. For destroying Voldemort. A task not easily completed. That, Snape decided, was what would finish this. Only it was hindered by Potter's new found death wish.  
  
Albus had met him with the conditions of this job. They were simple. Train Harry Potter. Train him to do what? Kill Voldemort, Snape supposed, it wasn't really specified. In occlumency to be sure, possibly to achieve animagus status. The boy certainly had the potential.   
  
There were no other conditions and that surprised Severus, surely Albus knew of his dislike for the boy, he was no first choice for the task. The child was seriously damaged, that Snape could understand, no burden that large should be placed on a child at the age of 1. It was entirely inappropriate. And very unfair.   
  
(/)  
  
"Good morning Harry, I have some good news." Albus Dumbledore stood at the door of the Hospital Wing.   
  
Harry wasn't in the mood for news, this was one of his bad days. Ever since last year there were good days and bad days. Good days consisted of a little cutting and general okay mood. Bad days were something else. Something completely opposite. Scary in their intensity, Harry dreaded the days when he woke up never wanting to wake up again.   
  
He said nothing in response to the Headmaster. The old man seemed fine with that though, he continued as if no greeting was required.  
  
"Professor Snape is to be your tutor for the year."  
  
There was a large pause as Dumbledore seemed to be attempting to gauge Harry's reaction. Harry's bad day had gotten worse, as all bad days did. Something heavy was weighing in his chest and he couldn't deny anger.  
  
"Snape?! He hates me!" His half surprised, half furious cry was strangled.  
  
"Now, Mr. Potter, Professor Snape does not hate you. He may not be the most friendly of teachers but he is a fine tutor."  
  
The calming voice of the man did nothing to calm Harry's panicked heartbeat. "How much do I have to see him?" Tutor didn't mean minder. Maybe it was only once a week.  
  
"One to two hours a day should do it, depending on Professor Snape's demanding schedule."   
  
_His weekly rendezvous with Voldemort, he means._ Harry scowled. Two hours a day was far, far too much.  
  
Before Harry could find himself capable of speaking Dumbledore had already finished his speech and was saying his goodbyes.   
  
The old man left, Harry still sat on the edge of the bed, his heart racing. Life was one kick in the gut after another. Spend 14 hours a week with Snape? Hell no!  
  
All of a sudden the weight got heavier and Harry was finding it hard to breathe. He needed to feel lighter. Harry stumbled of the bed, a dizziness hit him as he stood up too fast. The door was large and stubborn but Harry pulled it open.   
  
And he froze. The black robes three inches from his face could only belong to one person. Harry's gaze rose to the face of the much hated potions master.   
  
"And where do you think you're going, Potter?" The 'Potter' was spat with a particularly evil tone. Harry took a few steps back.  
  
"Just to the bathroom, sir." _Just to the bathroom to make myself real, dammit!_  
  
"You don't think it is proper to lie to a professor, do you Potter? Or do the rules not apply to such a celebrity as yourself?" The cold harsh voice of Snape made him take a sharp breath in.  
  
"Please sir," Harry gritted his teeth. "I just need to go to the bathroom."   
  
"Sit down."  
  
Harry stayed where he was. At least until the hand of Severus Snape landed on his shoulder. He let himself be pushed down onto the bed he'd just left. Disappointment rushed through him in a tidal wave.  
  
"I'd like to lay down some ground rules, I expect you to obey me and I expect you to respect me. However, I do not require you to like me, so do not feel obliged to do so." The sarcasm that dripped off the words made Harry want to attack the greasy haired git.   
  
"Don't worry, I won't," A glare made him remember who he was talking to, "sir." He finished, his eyes lowered to his hands.  
  
"Good. I will see you tomorrow, outside my office at 7pm. Understand?"   
  
Harry nodded quickly. He just wanted the man to leave. Snape turned on his heel, his footsteps were loud in the almost empty room.   
  
Just as Harry was going to stand, Snape turned once more. "And don't think you're going anywhere tonight, Potter, because there's only one place you want to go and it is my duty to prevent such an... activity... from taking place."  
  
The embarrassment effected him more than anything, as Harry's face went red. That his most hated professor knew, just as everyone else soon would, it was too much.  
  
The click of the lock sounded very final. And Harry wondered how the man knew he didn't just want to piss.   
  
(/)  
  
"Harry, you're back!" The delighted cry of Hermione caught everyone's attention in the common room.   
  
"Hey, Harry, where you been? I've heard some nasty rumors!"   
  
"You feeling better Harry?"  
  
"Is it true?"  
  
"Do you really-"  
  
They all crowded around him, each with something different to say, but all of them wanting to know the same thing: "Was it true?" The 'it' in question was beginning to worry him. There were so many different things that could have been chucked around.   
  
Ron grabbed his arm and dragged him across the room. "Come on, we'll talk in the dorm!" He had to shout to be heard by Harry.  
  
Harry welcomed the silence in the dorm. Though they'd interrupted what appeared to be a serious discussion between Dean and Seamus.  
  
"Harry, how are you mate?" Seamus greeted him, concern clearly written on his features.  
  
"I'm fine." It was a lie. He was anything but fine. Today was neither a good day, nor a bad day. It was somewhere in between. Tonight he had to meet with Snape. He hadn't cut in 22 hours and 35 minutes. It was beginning to hurt.   
  
The glance exchanged between Ron and Seamus annoyed Harry, he tried to ignore it but it was like the two were making it obvious.   
  
"Stop it." He finally said.  
  
They both looked at him. Dean looked as uncomfortable as Harry felt.  
  
"Stop what?" Ron sounded confused.   
  
"Just stop it." Harry let out a breath as he sat on his bed. But he realized that now he was sitting and the three of them were standing he felt very vulnerable.   
  
He shook it off.   
  
They were his friends.   
  
So was Hermione.  
  
"Where's Hermione?" Harry asked. The all too familiar anger flared up at her name.   
  
"Harry," Ron began slowly. "Hermione is very sorry-"  
  
"No, she's not."  
  
"She didn't mean to hurt you-"  
  
"She didn't mean to try and kill me. Ron, you know, I could've died! Sure, she didn't mean to do that, but she did mean to feed me veritaserum. That wasn't bloody well cool, Ron, it sucked big time."  
  
"I'm sorry Harry."  
  
"It's not your fault." Seamus and Dean looked out of place.   
  
Harry got up and headed out of the room. Ron looked on in surprise. "Where are you going?"  
  
"To the bathroom." He answered shortly. 22 hours and 39 minutes.   
  
"But Harry-"  
  
"I just need to go to the toilet Ron. Nothing else." He emphasized this, Dean was the only one in the room who didn't know for sure what he was talking about.  
  
Harry shut and quietly locked the bathroom door. He felt bad about lying to his friends but what else could he do? He ached.  
  
(/)  
  
Remus paced in his rooms. Remus wasn't usually the type to pace, but he was in a difficult situation.   
  
Harry was like a son to him. The fifteen year old was precious to so many people, Remus wondered if he knew it. Sirius had been in a worse state than when he'd just escaped Azkaban. Remus wasn't sure what he could do for his friend. Sirius had mentioned something about talking to Harry about cutting because Remus knew first hand about all sorts of methods of self-mutilation. Experience is the best teacher.   
  
But Remus wasn't sure whether he'd make it worse. He had only talked with Sirius and James about it, and back then he was like most other teenage boys in the 'emotional talks' side of things. Remus cut because he couldn't handle life, but he didn't only cut, there was so much more you could do to yourself.   
  
Would he, in his attempts to help Harry, just give him more fire power? Remus wasn't sure. He didn't want to risk it. But at the moment Harry was moving nowhere. A too emotional response would be back tracking. Snape would be perfect for this, if only he didn't hate the child so much.  
  
Remus decided he would talk to Harry tomorrow, though he wondered if Snape would treat him badly tonight. Remus wasn't sure if Dumbledore's idea was a very good one. Snape could do more harm than good, Remus knew how much damage a trigger could cause. He knew far too well.  
  
(/)  
  
Harry had noticed patterns. There were patterns. There was beauty. And there was beloved, welcome release. Sometimes there were even words.   
  
On his chest was a memorial to Cedric. Diggory deserved it from him, Harry had as good as killed the Hufflepuff. It scared him though, that it would be there forever and if someone were to look and see, would they understand? Would they understand why?  
  
Hermione had betrayed him. She didn't understand. She never would. The veritaserum felt like nothing he'd ever known before. It had lifted everything from his mind and it was as if there was nothing stopping him from doing anything. Harry thought it could be used as less of a truth potion and more of a drug. But what he'd been saying, they weren't things he'd say to anyone ever. That he'd trusted would stay inside where they belonged. And they didn't.   
  
Sirius didn't want him to die. Harry didn't want to die, he just wanted it to stop. To feel as if he was real and not empty. Not just hurt.   
  
How was he meant to make it go away? How else could it stop?   
  
This cut was deeper, but Harry knew what he was doing now. He wasn't going to let there be a repeat of the disaster. Blood flowed faster when it was closer to the wrists. Or it felt like it did anyway. It felt richer. More alive.   
  
---  
  
End of Chapter 12, hope you enjoyed!  
  
Please, please review! I'm seriously lacking in reviews, I reckon. I mean, 12 is good, it's great. But imagine how 20 would feel! Oh well, that'll never happen. Prove me wrong! 


	13. Chapter 13

Big thanks to: Shea Loner, curlytop, Becky (you're absolutely right! Cedric's memorial will be found out soon), FallenAngel12, HecateDeMort, elmobabes (thank you!), Nation El-Diablo, gopherisgood, FawkesRises, FroBoy, snort of laughter (I agree, I love Remus!), Elven Warrior1, angel74,   
  
RAiNbOwGrL22: The last chapter? No way! You'll get warning for that, don't worry! I don't let stuff in my story like Draco go to waste, I love him too much.  
  
Agnus Dei: Thank you. The song from which chapter? A few of them have songs but usually it's the whole thing in-between paragraphs and the artist/band is in the disclaimer (get back to me on that). Severus gets a bigger role in this chapter. No miracle recovery, don't worry, I don't believe in that either and I hate it when it happens in stories I read, it's just not realistic. Draco also has a bigger role, you'll see him too. I hope I haven't let you down (one of the vices of fanfiction writing)! Enjoy the chapter!  
  
Sophie: Thank you! I'm 14 and live in New Zealand. You?  
  
Rayne Avalon: Good idea, thanks! I think you need side-stories to every fanfic, cause it doesn't get boring and old, plus I love all the HP characters (even Pansy!).  
  
---  
  
Chapter 13  
  
Draco Malfoy wasn't one to brag. Okay, so he was. But he wasn't going to gossip about the latest news on the one and only Harry Potter. There were hundreds of rumors spreading now, so many that he didn't know what to think. The bleeding Harry Potter was seen being carried through the halls to the hospital wing by a black haired man (with a suspicious similarity to the escaped convict, Sirius Black). From that too many things could be deducted.  
  
Draco had seen Potter's eyes many times when they'd fought, they were empty and haunted. The kind Draco sometimes saw on himself. But not for the same reason, nor were his scary to the same intensity as Potter's. Sometimes Draco thought that maybe him and Potter had a bit in common. Potter was going to save the world, Draco was going to become a Death Eater. Going to. Not might. A certainty. It was like some commanding force had nailed his fate to the ground and bound it there.   
  
Lucius Malfoy was that commanding force for him. His father. The father who had been telling him for years he was going to grow up to murder "those ignorant mudbloods" and muggles. He even managed to glorify it. But it all ended with Draco having to find somewhere to vomit up his lunch at the thought of it. Yes, he hated muggles, but he also hated McGonagall. Did he want to kill her? Sometimes, but not really. In reality it made him cringe.   
  
"Draco, baby," Pansy slipped into the seat next to him. Far too close.   
  
"Pansy, honey," He mocked and rolled his eyes.   
  
Pansy seemed to ignore it and moved on. "Could I borrow your potions notes?"  
  
"Take them." Draco speared the cube of potato on his plate and ate it. "I don't care." With that he stood and left the table. Pansy would be offended but he was a Malfoy, he could act as he liked.   
  
Blaise appeared beside him, as the other boy had a knack of doing. "That wasn't nice."  
  
"I'm not in a nice mood." Draco sneered at him.  
  
"Draco, what the hell's with you lately?"   
  
"Nothing. What the hell's with you?"  
  
"Look Draco, whatever's wrong you can't take it out on Pansy!"  
  
"Merlin, Blaise, if she's what you're after, take her!"  
  
There was a silence and Draco knew he'd hit the spot.  
  
"Really?" For once Blaise didn't have the condescending tone he usually kept.  
  
"Yes. I don't want her, she doesn't actually want me."  
  
There was another silence as Blaise thought this over. "Then why is she always swooning over you?"  
  
"You call yourself a Slytherin." Draco smirked. "Our fathers want it, she doesn't really care, I'm a Malfoy, the embodiment of money and power."  
  
"So you don't care if I ask her to the dance?"  
  
"Zabini, I couldn't care if you shagged her there." Draco gave him a pointed look. "If you get her pregnant, she'd probably be happy, I would be. Then her father would force her to marry you. As I said, she doesn't actually want me and she definitely doesn't, Merlin forbid, love me."  
  
Blaise gave him a strange look. "Draco, I'm not going to get her pregnant."  
  
"Good." Draco said. "Otherwise I'd have to curse you so you'd never get anyone pregnant, ever."  
  
Blaise shook his head. "You are one confusing person."  
  
(/)  
  
Harry stared at Hermione and Ron. They were arguing, again. Those two spent all their time ripping each other's throats out. And what's worse, it made them happy. Harry sighed. It was strange.  
  
Ron turned to him. "Hey, mate don't you have that thing with Snape now?"  
  
_Shit_. Harry bit his lip. He was late. Hermione stood off to the side, watching his reaction but Harry hadn't looked her in the eye since 'it' had happened. He dragged himself out of the chair.  
  
"Bye Ron." He could hear his own resignation.  
  
(/)  
  
The way down to the office was maze like and gave him a headache. Harry was in the hallway where, just a few days ago, he had found Malfoy.  
  
He reached the door, took a deep breath and knocked once. It was only a second before it was opened. Harry blinked at how dark it was inside the room.   
  
"You're late, Potter, dare I ask why?" Snape left the door open and stalked to the desk.  
  
Harry followed him in, closing the door behind him. There was a little light illuminating the room, Harry discovered, but not nearly enough to see clearly.  
  
"Well, your excuse?"   
  
"I forgot the time." Harry wasn't quite sure what to do with his hands. He didn't want to be here. Snape would hex him if he broke anything, even accidentally. Especially accidentally. Stupid git.   
  
Snape sneered. "Clumsy, Potter, very clumsy. Are you that clumsy when it comes to Voldemort?"   
  
Harry almost sneered himself. Greasy bastard, thought he knew everything. Thankfully Harry kept his mouth shut.  
  
"Sit down, Potter." Snape sounded impatient. "I think you need to understand a few things before I attempt to teach you anything."  
  
Harry sat on the chair nearest to him. He noted in surprise that it was actually quite comfortable. He stared around the room, taking in the walls, lined with bookshelf after bookshelf, each as full as the next. Snape must read even more than Hermione.   
  
He prepared himself for whatever lecture the man was going to give. His eyes, carefully directed away from the professor's face, rested on his hands.  
  
"You may have every right to use and abuse your body, as it is yours and yours alone. But you will not do it while I am your professor, and you will not disrespect me by ignoring my words. Look at me, Potter, when I am speaking to you."  
  
Harry lifted his gaze from his hands.   
  
"What would you have me do? It seems you can not possibly stay here."   
  
Harry's mouth dropped open. "Why not?" Snape wasn't thinking of moving him?! Where would he go?!   
  
"You are making very little progress. You may no longer feel the desire to throw yourself off the astronomy tower," Harry's face flushed at the reminder. "but at the moment I have no doubt you are slicing up your arms everyday. Again, look at me when I am speaking to you." Harry looked back up.   
  
"I have very few options and believe me I would not be happy risking your life by misjudging what measures I need to take. Either you help me here or you help yourself."  
  
Take him away from Hogwarts? He didn't think so. Harry fought the urge to hit Snape.   
  
"I think I'll just help myself then." Harry stood up to leave.  
  
But before he went anywhere Snape was in front of him. "Wrong option. Sit."   
  
"You can't force me to stay here."  
  
"I can force you to leave." Harry knew Snape would follow through with his threats.  
  
Harry sat, the painful knowledge of his own lack of control pushing down on him.   
  
"What would you have me do?"  
  
Harry clenched his fist hard enough to feel his nails digging in. "Let me stay here."  
  
"I can arrange that." The reasonable tone of the professor startled him.  
  
"Get Dumbledore to take back his orders for Hermione and Ron to watch me?" He asked tentatively.   
  
"So you can injure yourself in peace?" The tone was less reasonable and more sarcastic this time.  
  
"No!" _Well, yes, but privacy too.  
_  
"Truth, Potter."  
  
"I just want my life back." Harry sighed involuntarily. Ever since everyone had found out it was as if everyone else was trying to look after him. Even Sirius. And cutting was becoming harder than it had ever been. He would have to find different ways.   
  
There was a short minute of silence. The darkness of Snape's office made Harry wonder if the man had night-vision or something. Maybe Ron was right, maybe the man was a vampire. It made him feel comfortable though, it didn't hurt so much here and he wasn't sure why. Maybe because it looked cold and felt so warm.   
  
(/)  
  
Snape had been surprised, at first, by how lost the boy looked. He was no fan of the Boy-who-lived, everyone at Hogwarts could attest to that, but even he had to be concerned. Obviously the burden was too large. Severus could understand that, his spying was a burden often hard to bear.   
  
There was an image of Harry Potter that haunted the child. And while Snape had always believed he was not fooled by this image, in reality he was just as pulled in as the rest of the wizarding world. It made him wonder what else the boy hid. It was that thought that made Severus decide to visit Poppy.  
  
(/)  
  
"Good morning, Harry." Remus greeted him, taking a place on the grass next to him.   
  
"Professor." Harry smiled at his teacher.  
  
"How are you doing?"  
  
"Just fine, sir."  
  
"I hear Snape is tutoring you. Lucky you."  
  
"So lucky." Harry muttered.  
  
"Harry, I was wondering if you needed to talk." Remus stopped beating around the bush.  
  
Harry shrugged. "I haven't got much to talk about."  
  
"Do you mind if I talk then?"  
  
"Go ahead." Harry wondered if he was going to hear Remus' story.  
  
"When I was thirteen I used to scratch my arms. It wasn't too much of a reach for me since the same injuries would be caused by the change. I didn't do it for the blood, as such, but for the control. Being a werewolf I didn't have much control over things. Lycanthropy tends to take a rather possessive hold on your life. I had no control over the pain of the change, of the way people would look at me when they knew what I was, of the special treatment I needed. So I created my own pain. I cut often as well. Soon it wasn't enough. The pain and scars were mixed in with those caused on the full moon.   
  
"I soon discovered other kinds of pain, burning, for instance, wrist banging, those sorts of things."  
  
Harry could tell Remus was purposefully brushing over the subject, he filed that information away for later.  
  
"It was my control, something I could do. When Sirius discovered he grabbed me and made me promise not to leave them. That he and James needed me. It took more than just that to convince me not to hurt myself, it took time and help. It also took a lot of will. Soon it became my control to stop. And I learned there were other ways of controlling my life than hurting myself."  
  
They sat without speaking for a while, staring over the calm, glistening lake. Harry shivered even though it was warm.  
  
"I suppose the question is, Harry, I used to hurt myself for control, why do you?"  
  
"I don't really hurt myself." Harry murmured.  
  
"Could you pulled up your sleeve for me?"   
  
Harry frowned at him.  
  
"I won't be disgusted or shocked." Remus promised.  
  
Harry frowned deeper but carefully pulled up his sleeve.   
  
Remus was unsurprised at the new cuts. "Do they hurt?" He asked.  
  
"No."  
  
"Why?" The unbiased sound of Lupin's voice compelled Harry to answer with a clarity he usually wouldn't have.  
  
"I'm numb. I'm empty. I cut to try and find something, you know? And it doesn't work forever. So I have to do it again. Blood and pain are good, they make me feel alive." The last part had dropped in volume to a whisper but Harry didn't notice. He stared hard at the lake.  
  
"Is there anything else that makes you feel alive?"   
  
It was too late, Harry had already shuttered his mind. Remus' question was ignored. He could tell, he understood. Harry talked to him freely at least, that took courage. The child was perceptive though, more than anyone knew, every word was catalogued and reworked later. It scared Remus; the things he'd noticed Harry pick up on. He needed to talk to Snape.   
  
They spent the next hour sitting by the lake, talking about school and Sirius until Remus helped Harry up and they both went to dinner.   
  
(/)  
  
Harry hadn't thought about this so much before. Why he cut. Now he couldn't let it go.   
  
He was empty, nothing felt real, that was why he cut. But that led on to why he wanted to die. That was different. That was all about control, like Remus had talked about. When things felt like they were going out of his control, that was when he just wanted to be able to gain all the control he needed, there was no greater control than that of life and death. Cutting wasn't about that. Harry hurt no one when he cut. That wasn't about control. That was about feeling real, to stop the numb.  
  
They were so different, Harry wondered how anyone could ever stick them together.   
  
"Harry, how did the thing with Snape go?" Ron asked, jumping up behind him.  
  
"Bloody awful. You're right, he is a vampire." Harry made a face.   
  
"Whatcha doing still up?" The question reminded him of what he'd mentioned to Snape earlier.   
  
Dumbledore had asked Ron and Hermione to watch him. It was why (besides any other reasons) Ron monitored how long he was in the bathroom, how long he was alone for (which was very little time these days, the lake had been his escape), what he said and did etc. Harry wondered if they thought he didn't know.   
  
Hermione still hung around him, apologizing a lot, Harry still avoided eye contact. He couldn't trust her. Not anymore.  
  
"Nothing much. Can't sleep."  
  
"Come on Harry, try, I'll wake you up if you have a nightmare."  
  
"You sleep like a brick, Ron, you won't know until I wake everyone up."  
  
"I'll try."  
  
"Whatever." Harry gave in and followed Ron up the staircase.  
  
(/)  
  
It was after an hour of staring at the wall that a weight landed on the bed beside him. He turned quickly.   
  
"Hello, Harry." It was Seamus. Harry sighed in relief.   
  
"You scared the shit out of me!" He whispered.   
  
"Good." Seamus grinned.  
  
"You know, if I didn't know better, I would be worried you were coming on to me, being in my bed and all." Harry rolled onto his back.  
  
"I wouldn't worry about that Harry, I have a crush on Draco Malfoy."  
  
That got him. "What!?"  
  
"Keep your voice down." Seamus scolded.   
  
Harry grabbed his wand and cast the silencing spell on the bed. "When did this happen?"  
  
"It just did. But I'm not here to talk about my complete lack of love life, we're just going to talk."  
  
"About your misplaced crush on Draco Malfoy?"  
  
"No." Seamus stuck out his tongue in a gesture that made Harry laugh aloud.   
  
"You know, you could have a chance there." Harry thought about it. "He doesn't really date and he could turn out not too bad."  
  
Seamus looked at him in surprise. "This coming from his nemesis!" He exclaimed, but Harry couldn't miss the hope in his friend's voice.  
  
"Well then if his nemesis says it then it must be true!" Harry was happy for Seamus, obviously that discussion he and Ron had interrupted had helped Seamus considerably.   
  
"Let it go, we're not here to talk about this," Seamus whined.   
  
"You're right," Harry agreed. "You're meant to be in your own bed."  
  
"You can't sleep, I can't sleep, let's talk."  
  
"About what?"  
  
"Not to be a mood killer but let's talk about Voldemort." Harry raised an eyebrow, Seamus had used his name.  
  
"What about him?" Harry asked. He wasn't sure what Seamus wanted to know. When he was going to kill the man?  
  
"Is he ugly?"  
  
The question caught Harry by surprise. He'd expected something else.  
  
"Butt ugly." Harry answered. He'd forgotten not many people had seen Voldemort.   
  
"Does he look scary?"   
  
That actually took some thought. Harry realized that though the wizard was powerful, ugly and tall, he actually looked pretty silly: red eyes, sort of scaly and bony.  
  
"Not at all!" Harry realized it was true and wondered how he'd quaked in terror when he faced him.  
  
"Really?" Seamus sounded interested.   
  
"Really..." Harry continued to detail Voldemort's appearance. Three hours later Seamus fell asleep in Harry's bed. Harry was about to wake his friend up and kick him out but it took one look at the sleeping Seamus to know that he didn't have the heart.   
  
Harry closed his eyes. He felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Seamus' impromptu visit had impact. Harry wanted to ask him if it had been on purpose. But then, it didn't really matter.  
  
---  
  
End chapter 13  
  
No, it will not be Harry/Seamus. I'm not against it, but that's not how I want the story to go. So no shouting or suggesting. I gave you an insight on Draco, you'll hear more from him. And soon you'll find out: what Draco was doing in that corridor in chapter 10! (I bet you can't wait). I want lots of reviews so the chapter will be up ASAP! 


	14. Chapter 14

Slightly Fond of Blood  
  
ImmortalFlick  
  
Thanks to: HecateDeMort, FroBoy, blulily07 and yet another author (who I believe has a new name - The Little Swimmy Dudette, did I get it right?)  
  
Shini the Graver: Thank you! Insight on that mostly came from myself.  
  
Agnus Dei: Yeah, that wrote itself, I like it. Isn't she? I like her normally, but writing her in a bad light isn't that hard.  
  
Etzgo: I'll try to cut down on cliffies! Wow, I'm honored, I hope you can ignore any slashy bits (there won't be many).  
  
RAiNbOwGrL22: If you haven't guessed why he was in the corridor by the end of the chapter, email me! Here's another chapter, it's pretty soon!  
  
foreverwandering: Yay! Thank you!  
  
Becky: Thank you so much for your review (nice and long). More insight on Draco here. I quite like Pansy and Blaise. Snape will see Poppy next chapter, so you'll get some answers. Everything else, you'll find out! Thanks again!  
  
Laura Granger: Thank you. I'll contact you if I ever need any help! (hugs)  
  
---  
  
Chapter 14  
  
"Potter, I will count to ten. Every odd number I say, I want you to think of a bad memory, every even number a good one. 1 falls into the odd category."  
  
Harry nodded, confused. It sounded a bit... childish.  
  
Snape began counting.  
  
"1."  
  
Harry shut his eyes.   
  
_Ginny lying on the cold floor in the Chamber of Secrets. Her body still and like ice to the touch. Riddle's face a few meters away, his smug grin, indifferent to the girl's life or death. _  
  
"2."  
  
_Sirius. The relief of not having a traitorous god-father. The promise of going to live with him. The hope of getting away from-_  
  
"3."  
  
_Cedric's body. A dead corpse. Suffered the same fate as Harry's own parents. Voldemort's offhand comment. "Kill the spare." The portkey._  
  
"4."  
  
_First time on a broom. The exhilaration. The smell of pure air. The wind, the freedom. The beloved danger._   
  
"5."  
  
_The veritaserum. Hermione's betrayal. Her wide eyes. His anger. What he'd said. Her confusion. The sudden pain._  
  
"6."  
  
_A Weasley jumper. A warm feeling spreads. To be a part of a family like this. It wasn't normal for him. It was a good feeling._  
  
"7."   
  
_Vernon's belt. Hard leather, sharp edges. The punishment made Harry cry which got him more lashes. He was a bad boy. He was to be punished.  
_  
"8."  
  
_Catching the snitch, the cheers are roaring but all he can hear is his own heart pounding. Winning the Quidditch cup._  
  
"9."  
  
_He was thrown in the cupboard. He can hear the lock 'clank' shut loudly. His back and side hurts. Tears fall down his cheeks._  
  
"10."  
  
_"I love you too, Harry." Sirius loved him! It was strange. But it sent a warm bolt that settled in his stomach. Like having a father._   
  
"Open your eyes." Snape said firmly.  
  
Harry obeyed. He felt tired. The task was easy enough, but in short notice the worst memories came to mind.  
  
"That was a simple exercise which I am sure even you can grasp. I expect you to put it into practice. It concentrates the mind. A useful skill for occlumency and the resistance of veritaserum. Though veritaserum is now ruled out for you." Snape added the last bit thoughtfully.  
  
"On another note, every time you think of mutilating yourself, you are to practice that exercise, counting, for yourself, in even numbers to 200."  
  
Harry's jaw dropped open. "200?"  
  
"Do you want to make that 300, Potter?"  
  
"No sir, I don't think I have 200 good memories."  
  
Snape sneered, but reigned it in. "It's only 100, Potter, and the small ones count."  
  
Harry nodded mutely. Snape was very over-powering. It was as if he thought he was better than everyone else. It annoyed Harry.  
  
"As a much needed reminder, mutilating covers things you don't believe are painful or hurtful in any way."  
  
That struck a chord. It wasn't fair! _What the hell does Snape think he's doing? Snape doesn't know everything! He doesn't know anything!  
_  
There was no way he would be controlled like this! "But, sir," Harry ground out, his blood boiling.  
  
"Don't 'but, sir' me, Potter, you will do it or I will do much worse."  
  
Harry wondered what he meant by worse. He supposed he didn't have to do it, Snape would never know.  
  
As if Snape had read his mind the man narrowed his eyes. "I will be checking you for any injuries before each lesson begins."  
  
Harry wished he could explain what he meant to say properly to the professor. "Sir, you don't understand, it might not work." He was pretty sure it wouldn't work.  
  
"It will still serve as an occlumency exercise."  
  
It was strange, Harry realized, he didn't even know what occlumency was, Snape had been mentioning it on and off throughout the entire lesson. He supposed Snape would tell him tomorrow, or he would ask.   
  
(/)  
  
Harry returned to the Gryffindor Common Room in a bad mood, the loud colours did nothing to cheer him up.   
  
He dropped down onto the couch in front of the fire. Every turn he took Snape was in front of him. In the past two days it was as if a shadow had been cast above him, following everything he did. Even Ron had noticed, shying away when Snape came near.   
  
"Harry, I've been looking for you!" Seamus bounded down the stairs. "Where did you go?"  
  
Harry forced a smile. "Private tutoring." He answered, a convenient title.  
  
"Oh, that sucks, who with?"   
  
"Snape."  
  
"That sucks worse. How bad is he?" Worse than worse, it was torture.  
  
"He's fine." He lied.  
  
"Really?"  
  
Harry didn't reply.  
  
(/)  
  
Sirius told Harry to come to his chambers after dinner. Harry skipped dinner, no doubt Snape would be on his case about it afterwards, the man seemed to monitor everything he did. He left his room when the time was appropriate.  
  
Harry stopped to talk to Nearly Headless Nick, who'd been eager to talk to him. He had to politely excuse himself from the conversation when Nick started talking about his second cousin on his father's side.   
  
He finally found Sirius' rooms. He knocked twice. Barely a moment after his hand reached his side again the door flew open.  
  
"Harry! Missed you at dinner, where were you?" It looked like Snape wasn't the only one monitoring him, Harry thought dryly. He was ushered in.  
  
"Wasn't hungry, did some homework."   
  
Sirius laughed. "Of course you did."   
  
Sirius' chambers were in bright Gryffindor colours. Remus said it was because the man needed cheerful colours after Azkaban. Harry sort of understood.   
  
Harry settled on the red couch with gold pillows. "Why did you want to talk to me?"  
  
"Harry, I'm your godfather, can't I talk to you without agenda?" Sirius faked a hurt look.  
  
"You can but you don't." Harry said, hoping he wasn't overstepping the line.  
  
"I'm s-"  
  
"What's that?" Harry interrupted before his godfather could apologize.  
  
"What's what?" Sirius asked after a moment.  
  
"That." He pointed to the box in the corner. It was stamped fragile.  
  
When Sirius avoided his eyes Harry immediately knew it was something important. "Nothing much, just holding something for Albus."  
  
Harry nodded. It was none of his business. Not that that'd stopped him before.  
  
"Do you want some butterbeer?" Sirius grinned at him, changing the subject.  
  
Harry smiled back. "Sure."  
  
(/)  
  
Draco Malfoy didn't make a habit of wandering around at night. That sort of stuff was better left to the illustrious Potter. But tonight was different. It was his birthday today. He'd gotten the gifts from his parents. A letter from his father. A reminder of his incoming fate.   
  
So the reminder haunted him, disturbing his sleep. He'd finally decided he was better off out of bed. Walk it off.   
  
There was the risk of detention but it didn't really matter. He'd already avoided Peeves twice.  
  
Draco absent mindedly made his way up to the Astronomy Tower. He liked the view from the top.   
  
It wasn't until he was looking out one of the windows did he notice a figure sitting on a window sill. His heart speed up for a moment.   
  
"Potter?" He questioned, recognizing the small silhouette.  
  
"Malfoy," The other boy acknowledged him with a nod.  
  
"Should you be up here?" He was a little confused. Everyone knew of Potter's latest stunt. Different versions, sure, but a good few of them suggested he should not be in high places.  
  
"Should you?"   
  
Good question. "It's a little different."  
  
Draco heard a sigh. "Does anyone not know?"  
  
For the fame-loving Potter this was an ironic thing to ask. "Everyone knows something different." Draco found that quite funny. The Hogwarts grape-vine had warped many stories over the years. Including a few of his own.  
  
Potter said nothing.   
  
"You really are crazy, aren't you?" Draco sat cross-legged on the floor. He felt uncomfortable being the one standing. But then, this was one of the most uncomfortable situations he'd faced in a while. It wasn't that Potter made him nervous, just the one-on-one in the middle of the night, with the rumored suicidal Harry Potter, it wasn't the ideal midnight stroll.  
  
"Malfoy, do you expect me to kill Voldemort?" Draco blinked. That came out of nowhere. He wondered whether he should answer honestly.  
  
"Honestly." Potter added as an after thought. Draco edged back a bit. That was scary.  
  
"I don't think you can kill anyone," He said truthfully.  
  
Potter snorted.   
  
"But since you're said to be the only one who can, I hope miracles exist." He finished, taking a deep breath. He really hoped miracles were real, it would save him a lot of trouble.  
  
"I don't want to die for everyone else." The quiet voice of the Boy-who-lived stated. The sentence worried Draco more than he liked to admit. There was a window a few hundred feet from the ground right next to the boy.  
  
"Isn't that what you're meant to do, Potter? The Boy-who-lived. Be a fucking martyr?" Draco said this all sarcastically, he thought the whole idea was useless, he wouldn't do it himself.  
  
There was another pause in which Draco once again wondered on the sensibility of staying here.  
  
"It's how my life is meant to end. Only I don't want to die for everyone else." Potter repeated.   
  
"Bloody hell, Potter, why are you telling me this?"  
  
"I figure you don't care."  
  
He spluttered in an un-Malfoyish manner until he finally spat out, "I don't."  
  
"Good."  
  
Draco continued, unsure of himself for once in his life. "But shouldn't you be talking to someone who... does?"  
  
"I have far too many of those."  
  
All Draco could say was, "Oh." Potter nodded.  
  
Draco fiddled with the lining of his robes. He really must get new ones, they were fraying dreadfully. He was reminded of where he was by the shifting of the other boy. There was really no reason for him to stay here while his enemy seemed to be having suicidal thoughts. In fact, he shouldn't even be talking civilly with the Boy-who-lived.   
  
"Hey, Malfoy?" Draco wondered if he should just throw a good left hook and leave. He'd been confused since he'd started this conversation, it was beginning to get to him.  
  
"What now, Potter?"  
  
"What were you doing in the corridor?"  
  
Draco was silent. That was not something he wanted to discuss. Especially not with Potter. "That's none of your business." It was meant to be a closing statement.  
  
"You've told me that already, tell me something new." Potter had the nerve to sound bored.  
  
"Slytherin's a tough house. Just be glad you're not in it." With that, Draco decided he should leave. With his luck Potter would take a leap out that window and he'd have to do something about it, or get blamed. He stood.  
  
"Another time, Potter."   
  
"Whatever, Malfoy." Draco could've sworn the other boy was smiling. He didn't wait around to find out.  
  
The portrait gave him a disdainful look but did not say anything as Draco told him the password.   
  
He was met with Adrian Pucey, Cameron Warrington and Terence Higgs. A cold fear set in his heart.  
  
"Pucey," He sneered at the large seventh year. "Move."   
  
Pucey did move. Towards him. Draco swallowed. Not again. He pulled out his wand.   
  
"My father-"   
  
"Would help us beat you to pulp if he knew." Warrington grabbed his arm and twisted it back. Draco bit his lip.  
  
"You don't want us to tell him, do you?" Pucey moved closer.   
  
Draco cried out when the punch hit his stomach.   
  
(/)  
  
Harry sighed to the silence. This was his reprieve. It was the only opportunity he'd had to be really alone since 'it' had happened. The space in between, when no one was watching him.  
  
He traced the scars on his upper arms. They tingled. His head burned again. Harry gritted his teeth. That was one scar he didn't want. The burning went away almost instantly. It had been like that lately. It stung for a few seconds, calmed, flared again, then disappeared for a few days. It happened with an almost soothing regularity.  
  
In all honesty, the little run in with Malfoy couldn't have happened at a better time. Harry was in a much better mood after being with Sirius for a few hours, he was relaxed, it gave him a chance to get the Slytherin to talk. Harry knew there was something more going on there, plus he wanted to see if the boy would respond to Seamus, it was something to focus on. He also had to admit, it gave him a chance to talk as well. Too much was going on with Malfoy for the other boy to go blabbing around and Harry had material on him should he want to use it.  
  
Malfoy reminded him of Snape sometimes. _Everyone deserves a second chance,_ Harry thought, _even I might._  
  
_"Kill the spare."_  
  
He shivered at the memory. Cedric was on his mind a lot. Diggory was meant to live a long, happy life. Not be dragged into Harry's mess. Dragged into the tangle that explained his life.   
  
Cedric deserved to be remembered. Harry made sure he would never forget.  
  
In the summer after Cedric's death, Harry had discovered cutting. He'd discovered the release and relief of it. But there was a beginning. The glass.   
  
_Harry had been doing chores for all his life at the Dursleys. He got beaten when they weren't finished or not done well enough. It was life there. When he'd broken Petunia's prized vase the pieces had shattered everywhere. After being given a sprained shoulder and promises of a belting, Harry had to clean it up.   
  
A large piece caught his eye. He didn't know what he was thinking at the time but he'd kept it. And stared at it for a week. Until he cut his thumb. Then he began to think about using it. The overwhelming nothingness came to life with blood and real pain. Not the kind of pain in his head.   
  
It was then Harry had realized how he would always remember Cedric. How he could make sure he could not forget the death he had caused.  
  
Scars lasted forever. The scar on his forehead told him that. He needed a mirror and a steady hand, it took him an hour to make sure it would scar.   
  
'I am sorry'  
_  
Harry had known it was the right inscription straight away. It was what he always thought. It would remind him like nothing else could.   
  
It sent him a message too. One of regret, of pain, of reality.  
  
_Every time I look at it I know: I will spend my life being sorry._  
  
---  
  
End of chapter 14. I'm unsure about this chapter. Was it any good? I expect a heap of reviews. It's a quick update with a decent sized chapter. 


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Snape seems to be playing a bigger role than I originally thought. But that's cool. I like the guy. This site (it won't let me say it's name) is fucking with me, so all Harry's thoughts are between these stupid things. Parseltongue is {between these dumb looking things}  
  
Warning: There is a bit of slash in this chappie (no Harry slash, how many times do I have to say it?)  
  
Thanks to: Phen82, Nation El-Diablo, RAiNbOwGrL22, Serious Prankster, HecateDeMort, instar, FroBoy  
  
SidheLady: I know, I know, I'm sorry. I sort of implied it. It's clearer in this chapter.  
  
Etzgo: Is that a good wow or a bad wow?   
  
wwwendy: Not Harry slash (no Harry romance sorry). Thank you for your review!  
  
cookielover87: Thanks for all your reviews!  
  
Agnus Dei: Oh no! What was the something?  
  
---  
  
Chapter 15  
  
"Hey, Harry!"  
  
"Ron." Harry nodded, not pausing in his stride.  
  
"You weren't at breakfast." Ron commented, a nervous side glance at his friend.  
  
"Wasn't hungry."  
  
"You aren't hungry much are you?" The quick remark made Harry flinch slightly. He was stupid to think no one had noticed. Though he was surprised the normally clueless Ron had.  
  
"Not much, no." He said no more, hoping Ron would leave it at that.   
  
He did.   
  
But he moved on to an equally grueling subject. The words emerged for the hundredth time in the past few days. The same words. Same tone. Same expression.   
  
"Mate, I'm sorry about Hermione."  
  
And yet, in it's sameness, it struck that nerve once again. "It's not your fault."   
  
Ron ignored him. "She's worried-"  
  
"Don't try to justify it, Ron!" Harry snapped, he didn't want to hear Ron making Hermione's excuses.  
  
"I'm not trying to justify it," The redhead's voice rose. "But what are you going to do? Send her to Azkaban without a bloody trial?!" As quickly as the anger had flared, it was gone. "I don't want to fight, Harry, I'm sorry."  
  
Harry blinked. And stared straight ahead, gaze unmoving. "Whatever. I don't want to talk about it." He didn't blink again for fear of the burning behind his eyelids turning into something more.  
  
(/)  
  
"Today you will be transfiguring your rats into snakes. Please, take note, live transfigurations do take more concentration..."   
  
McGonagall's voice droned on. Harry sighed. He felt like he had a lot of energy even though his sleep had been doubling down every night until he hardly closed his eyes but to pretend to be finding some peace. Ron was right. He wasn't hungry much. He only ate when he was hungry. Therefore he didn't eat much. It was hard to remember when all that was running through his head was the ache of need. The ache of emptiness. The ache of everything. It was hard to stick to a single label.  
  
"I hate rats," Ron muttered from next to him. "Every time I look at one I think of Scabbers."  
  
"At least it's not spiders!" Dean said cheerfully, tapping his frightened rat with his wand.   
  
Ron shuddered and picked up his wand. "Converto Serpens," He waited for a second. Nothing happened. "Bugger."  
  
"5 points from Gryffindor for language, Mr. Weasley." Ron jumped as McGonagall's stern reprimand came from the front of the room. McGonagall had sharp hearing all right, though not quite sharp enough to catch the muttered "crazy old bat". Ron had lost 60 points in the past fortnight for his language. Harry wondered why his friend was so profane all of the sudden.  
  
There was a squeak from his desk. Harry looked his rat in the eye. It shifted under his gaze but didn't make such a fuss as Neville's was. Harry prodded it with his wand. He wasn't particularly fond of rats either. Pettigrew.   
  
"Professor, I don't think my rat wants to be a snake!" Neville was desperately trying to hold the struggling creature still.   
  
McGonagall looked like she expected it and was down the back before Neville could say any more.  
  
She cast a calming spell on the animal and it was through the wonderful powers of magic that in less than a second the rat was curled up happily.   
  
"Converto Serpens." She said forcefully. The rat became a green garden snake.   
  
The hissing could be taken as frightened, but Harry heard the angry tone.   
  
{You ssstupid humansss,} it hissed. Harry stared at it, it was strange, to be able to understand the words behind the hissing. He remembered the Brazilian Boa Constrictor in the reptile house. The first time he'd heard a snake. The Dursleys. Uncle Vernon. A headache began to form. Pain.  
  
The noise was cut off when McGonagall changed it back.  
  
Harry shut his eyes tightly and took a deep breath. He refocused his attention to the animal on his own desk. It's fur was the same colour as Pettigrew's, now he thought about it. He really didn't like this rat.   
  
"Converto Serpens." He snapped, stronger than intended.  
  
The squeals of Lavender and Parvati as they leapt away made his ears ring.   
  
"Mr. Potter!" Harry gulped. The sight before him was disgusting and made his stomach churn a bit. "Come with me at once."   
  
(/)  
  
"It may be very well to catch something on fire, Mr. Potter, but it takes a great deal of uncontrolled magic to make the rat explode with such a simple spell."  
  
Harry felt his fingernails dig into the palm of his hand. "It was just an accident."  
  
"It was lack of self-control which could cause danger to other students-" McGonagall was cut of by Snape.  
  
"Which you seem to be doing just marvelously without the aid of a spell." The sour words made Harry's eyes flash with anger. How dare he imply... Cedric, a voice murmured inside his head. Guilt flooded his mind.   
  
"Thank-you, Severus, for arriving so quickly." Dumbledore attempted to stop the argument before it became one. "While I believe the matter is not directly young Mr. Potter's fault, I agree with Minerva's decision to remove him from classes for the rest of the day. Due to the... circumstances..." Harry made a indignant noise, for which he received a glare from Snape. That's right, Severus, he mocked, glare, it's all you can do! "I think it would be wise for him to spend the time in a lesson with you, as you are free for the remainder of the day regardless."  
  
Snape glared at Harry again, no doubt for wasting his time, before replying to Dumbledore. "Of course." His hand came down to rest on Harry's shoulder heavily. "Come along, Potter."  
  
(/)  
  
"I do not agree with the Headmaster's assessment of the situation." Snape stated, his gaze set on Harry, who was sitting uncomfortably on the chair opposite the Professor's desk.  
  
"What, you think I blew up the rat on purpose?" Harry exclaimed.  
  
"What I think is really none of your business, Potter. I did not say anything about the rat."  
  
Harry huffed. "Well, I didn't."  
  
There was a huge silence in which Harry shifted nervously and stared at the shelf to the left of Snape's head. There was a small statue of a dragon in the center, Harry was dying to get a closer look at it but didn't move.  
  
The silence lasted so long that Harry was surprised when the icy voice of Snape seemed louder than it really was.   
  
"Often one might do unto others as they wish to do to themselves, I wonder, Mr. Potter, if this is one of these times. But then there's Pettigrew, which persuades me otherwise. However it is not your integrity that is in question, it is the reason for the rat's gruesome death that concern the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall. It is the cause of the magic itself."   
  
Harry remembered McGonagall's words. Uncontrolled magic.  
  
"Accidental magic is usually rare over the age of 13. Such excessive results and force behind a spell unintended to have even a similar affect is also accidental magic. Only under extreme stress or anger does it tend to appear. Which leads us to assume you are one of the above."  
  
"And?" Harry couldn't help but say. They'd never cared if he was under stress before, so there must be a reason behind it.  
  
"That makes you a danger." And there it was.   
  
It's all he ever was. A danger, it's what he boiled down to. A danger to innocent people like Cedric. "A danger who everyone wants to be saved by!"  
  
Snape seemed to anger at his outburst. He stood and Harry felt himself wanting to move away. "Mr. Potter, I have attempted to drum something into your thick head ever since we've started. I have tried to make it as clear as possible. To stay at Hogwarts you need to stop wallowing in whatever guilt, self-pity or anger you are harboring."  
  
The conversation (if it could be called that) had taken an unnerving turn. Harry swallowed, his throat had gone dry.   
  
"I have told you this, and you were adamant in your ability to stay. Unfortunately you are moving precisely nowhere. Which leads me to believe you do not care."   
  
At that Harry interrupted. "I do care! I don't want to leave Hogwarts!"   
  
He was ignored. "You continue to harm yourself and show signs of being harmful of others. There is no change, nor remorse in your behavior, being at Hogwarts appears to be of further damage to any progress that could be made."  
  
"I don't want to leave." Harry said firmly, trying to be reasonable, trying to make the professor believe him.  
  
"It is no longer up to you, Mr. Potter. Hogwarts is giving you routine, a routine you dearly hold onto, self-mutilation being a part of that routine."  
  
"It isn't self-mutilation!" No one understood that! Nobody even tried to understand! Not even Professor Lupin.  
  
It was in a threatening and almost violent movement that his arm was grabbed by the Potions Professor. His sleeve was pulled up and his arm, riddled with fresh red cuts, was revealed. For the second time, his own pain, written on his skin, was shoved into his face.  
  
Harry tried to pull his arm out of Snape's grasp. The iron grip surprised him. "Leave me alone!" He yelled.  
  
Snape did not let go. "We obviously have very different notions of mutilation. Mutilation, Potter, is often defined as 'to make imperfect by excising or altering parts'. That is how it appears doesn't it?"  
  
"No, it's bloody well not." Harry mumbled. It wasn't mutilation, no matter what the git thought.  
  
Snape let go of his arm suddenly. "Very well, I want you to write me three feet on what it is."  
  
Harry gasped. "Three feet?" It wasn't the amount which bothered him really. It was the fact that, when he thought about it, he didn't know what it was.   
  
"Three and a half feet, which we will discuss tomorrow."  
  
"You said three feet!"  
  
Snape smirked at him, a look which was vaguely sadistic. "Three and a half feet by tomorrow."  
  
"But-"  
  
The smirk was still there when Snape turned around. "You might want to get started."  
  
Harry slammed the door behind him.  
  
(/)  
  
It wasn't until he was in the Gryffindor Common Room did Harry notice that no matter what he'd said, no points had been deducted, no punishment given, except the Professor's threat about taking him out of the school. Leaving Hogwarts. The thought sent a cold shiver down his spine. Leave Hogwarts? Where did Snape want him to go? St. Mungo's? The Dursleys?  
  
He sat, staring blankly at the parchment in front of him. He had no idea what to write and had no intentions whatsoever of asking for help. He could imagine asking Neville or someone, what are these scars on arms and legs? What do they mean? Why are they there? Why the fuck was he still here?  
  
Five hours later, Harry had been up and down from the dorm, and had still not written anything on the parchment. Ron came tumbling in the door, followed by Seamus and Dean. Harry knew that lately Ron had been forced to find other people to have fun with, to be friends with, since he was absent so much. It hurt a little, well, actually it hurt a lot, but Harry knew it was the way life worked. He couldn't be so selfish as to claim Ron as his own.  
  
"Hey, Harry, you missed dinner!" And lunch, Harry hadn't actually made an active assessment of hunger this time, he'd forgotten.  
  
"And you missed seeing Malfoy!" Dean crowed excitedly.  
  
Seamus didn't look as happy, unsurprisingly. "He looked like he'd been run over by a bus."  
  
That sparked Harry's curiosity. "What happened?"  
  
"He missed breakfast and lunch, but he turned up at dinner with a black eye and bruised cheek. He cursed Parkinson!" Seamus' tone raised gleefully on the last sentence.   
  
"Someone beat up Malfoy?" Harry asked disbelievingly. It wasn't normal, Malfoy didn't even get into fist fights, it was 'below him'.  
  
"Looks like it, I wonder who?" Ron was grinning. Harry didn't really find it that funny. Malfoy was a stuck-up git, but it was strange. Especially after last night. Maybe it was after he'd left.   
  
Malfoy had been beaten up. Who would dare with a father like his? You'd think after the hippogriff in third year people would get a clue.  
  
(/)  
  
Blaise was pacing in the dorm. "Draco, just tell me who did it!"  
  
"I've already told you, I can't!" Draco growled, resting his head back on the wall, looking at the ceiling, he clenched the sheets under him with his right hand. His left arm was sprained.  
  
"Why can't you go to Pomfrey like last time?"  
  
"I just can't."  
  
"Did they threaten you?" Blaise stopped in his pacing, his face showing a dawning realization.   
  
Draco recognized the look and sighed inwardly. "I'm a Malfoy, do you think people would threaten me?"  
  
"They threatened you! How dare they?! Was it a Gryffindor?" Blaise spat the word with hatred.   
  
"Look, Blaise, no one threatened me, least of all a Gryffindor."  
  
His friend just glared at him. "I thought it was just pride, but no, someone is trying to keep you quiet. You're right, it can't be a Gryffindor, you'd be getting them expelled by now." Blaise started pacing again. Draco groaned.   
  
"Just leave it alone, I'll deal with it." He put on his best 'reasonable' tone. It didn't work on the black haired Slytherin, who suddenly turned on his heel and stalked towards Draco, his teeth gritted.  
  
"It's a Slytherin, isn't it?"   
  
"It's no one, Blaise!"  
  
"Yeah, No One is beating you up! No One is giving you a black eye and almost breaking your wrist! Who is No One?!"  
  
Draco decided he'd had enough. "Blaise," He said calmly. "If I wanted your help, I'd ask for it."  
  
"Draco," Blaise imitated, causing Draco to wince inwardly. "You never ask for help."  
  
"Exactly." With the icy word he brushed past his best friend and opened the door to the dorms. Blaise spoke up.  
  
"Don't you ever curse Pansy again, no matter how angry you are."  
  
He threw the door back. The loud 'bang' was satisfying. Today had been a day of humiliation. He'd skipped all his classes and meals but Blaise had convinced him to come to lunch, if only to point out the culprits.   
  
Malfoys are strong. They don't let other people deal with their problems. They take care of it. But this was a difficult situation, it required discretion. Draco could say he'd deal with it all he liked, but he had no idea how he'd go about it. Pucey had a lot of size on him, as did Warrington and Higgs. Plus they had blackmail. He couldn't run to his father on this one. Lucius would do far worse than those three ever could.   
  
Draco knew he'd made a mistake in trying to send that owl to Professor Snape, he knew he should've done it in person. Ever since he'd realized the man was a spy for the light (which hadn't taken too much observation - it made him wonder who else knew about Professor Snape), he'd been tempted to ask him for help. But as Blaise said, he never asked for help. It had been a matter of pride. So he'd sent the owl. Little did he know (and this was something he really should've been aware of) the mail out of Slytherin was all screened by several of the older years.   
  
That had been his first mistake. It was a big one. The second was far more humiliating than the first. The second was being found out. Something frowned upon in pureblood families (especially the traditional purebloods). This was a lot of pain for a blow job. Even if Finch-Fletchley was good.   
  
That was how he'd ended up in that corridor. It was because of Pucey, Warrington and Higgs. Those bastards. The first time he'd been cornered by them he'd been unprepared. It was a blow to his pride to admit that the second time he was equally off guard. Another blow to admit that if Potter hadn't come along, he would've been beaten to a pulp. But it did happen again. And it wasn't likely to stop.  
  
So those were two big mistakes rolled into one giant mess up. And Draco still couldn't ask for help.  
  
(/)  
  
Severus was not an evil man. Nor was he a particularly kind hearted one. But there was a time to lower his pride and distaste to achieve a goal.  
  
After today, Snape feared there really was a need to take Potter away somewhere, for the child to restructure. It could cause more damage than good. Not that it mattered now. Things were at a standstill. Potter had routine, something which had become very unhealthy. After a week, Severus could already see, nothing was changing. Nothing was likely to change.   
  
All the spite that had gone into James Potter's son had been coloured. Harry Potter was no spoilt brat. Severus knew abused children. Slytherin had a fair few. As did Ravenclaw. He knew abused children very well. He also knew his own bias. And occasional selective ignorance. It was a bad habit he'd never managed to break.   
  
So when Harry Potter stepped into his classroom, clearly malnourished, mannered and without the playful streak that had been the trademark of the boy's father, he should've known something was up. He wouldn't have marked it down as abuse straight away, but he wouldn't have been so blatantly blind.   
  
That visit to Poppy was still in order. He would find out then if his suspicions were correct.  
  
---  
  
End of chapter 15 


	16. Chapter 16

Thanks to: Fay, HecateDeMort, ckat44, The Little Swimmy Dudette, Riffinton, FroBoy, SidheLady (maybe a little later on, Draco gets a little more stage space a few chapters along), blulily07, RAiNbOwGrL22, foolishangel87, Phen82 and kateydidnt.  
  
A/N: Slightly short but the next will be longer. It's required, you see.  
  
---  
  
Slightly Fond of Blood - Chapter 16  
  
---  
  
Harry stared at the parchment as if words would appear if he looked at it long enough.  
  
The problem was, he didn't know what to write. The three and a half feet he had to write were on something he had to discuss after dinner and he still didn't know what they were about. Snape had told him to write it on what his scars were.  
  
Harry snapped the quill.  
  
What were they?  
  
Some result of his freakiness the Dursleys had always talked about?  
  
Some curse by Voldemort?  
  
They were everything. They were nothing. They were what kept him hanging onto the rope which dropped an inch every day. They were release. They were escape. They were his safety net and his ten mile drop.  
  
And suddenly he knew what to write. It wouldn't be three and a half feet but it would be more than nothing.  
  
---  
  
"Poppy, you are aware the child has been abused?" The way Severus versed it could nearly be considered a command but Poppy knew the man too well to be fooled by his cold exterior.  
  
"I assume you are referring to young Mr. Potter?" Severus nodded sharply. "He is a troubled young man for sure, his caregivers were not kind to him at all. His back is riddled with scars from belting." She felt her temper rise at the thought. Child abuse was rare in the Wizarding World, unusual in most pureblood families, though hardly unheard of. Poppy knew of two current students at Hogwarts who had to be removed from their families due to the abuse they received at home.  
  
"Surely his relatives realize who he is?" Poppy shook her head, even now Severus grasped his illusions of the boy.  
  
"It is most likely because they know who is they hate him..." She trailed off. "Now he will be removed from the family, Albus has yet to inform him, it is the self-abuse I am concerned about, has it been fed by the mistreatment? I wondered if that was why he does not recover, because he remembers, but something tells me it has moved far beyond that now."  
  
Snape cursed inwardly. He hadn't considered getting the boy to talk about it. He did not have a healthy relationship with Potter and the brat would never confide in his greasy Potions Master.  
  
"He has to be removed, yet moving him may result in disaster."  
  
Poppy pondered the thought for a moment. "That would be a last resort." She wanted to protect the boy only he was so fragile it was like teetering on the edge of a cliff. Harry had so much to live for and at the same time so many reasons to want to get away.  
  
---  
  
Harry looked down at the knife.  
  
He'd been in here for over twenty minutes. No doubt Ron was pacing outside, trying to decide what to do next. It made Harry wonder what had gone so wrong as for his friend to have to worry about him so much. The locking charm on the door should waylay Ron when he tried to come in, leaving Harry some time to clean up. Harry may have not been ashamed or revolted by what he did but one glance in his best-friend's eyes told him there were things he could not share with Ron. This was one of them.  
  
Harry cut his forearm slowly, savoring the feeling, it was one he could no longer achieve in the outside world. How could Professor Lupin say that was hurt? Was it a crime to feel free for once in his life? A crime to be escaping from every pain in his life just for a little while? When he cut he didn't feel the guilt or the lost terror, he just felt liberated. It was worth everything he had.  
  
"Harry, are you okay?" It was Ron. Again, any deliverance he had from his life was broken, Harry snapped back to alertness.  
  
"I'm fine, Ron, I'm just thinking." It was a dangerous thing to say, Harry knew it, but it came out before he could check it.  
  
"Can you come out?" This was what annoyed Harry as he sat in the white tiled room with bleeding arms. Ron was treating him like delicate china.  
  
"Just give me a second, Ron!" He lost his temper a little that time.  
  
There was a silence from outside the door and Harry sighed. Now he'd probably flared the Weasley temper.  
  
He washed his arms, cleaning the cuts but not covering them. Let them bleed, he thought viciously, let them fucking bleed. When he had done this before, he had reproached himself for the display of irrationality as he sat for an hour attempting to cast a cleansing spell on his shirt. But right then none of it mattered.  
  
Harry forced a smile on his face and apologized to Ron, who looked at him skeptically.  
  
"Don't make yourself a liar, mate." Ron said it lightly but clearly.  
  
The words stung Harry more than he thought Ron had intended.  
  
"I'm not." He said stubbornly, all the while cursing himself for what he was doing to his friend. Ron had been uncharacteristically quiet and subdued since Harry had almost lost his life, bags occasionally under his eyes and his appetite had waned, much to the surprise of everyone who knew him.  
  
There was no answer from the red-haired boy, the two walked silently to dinner, each avoiding the other's gaze.  
  
---  
  
Harry had made very few appearances at meals in the past week. When he did enter the Great Hall for food he either came very early and left soon after or very late and stayed until someone came to remind him curfew was closing in or a class had already started. Harry retreated to the kitchens, sitting with Dobby while he ate without saying a word. Food had lost it's appeal along with any social gatherings.  
  
Today he was on time and gained attention from almost every table, making his discomfort grow. Before he'd only been marginally aware of the rumors but he became acquainted with them as he walked between tables.  
  
Draco Malfoy was miserably sitting next to Blaise Zabini, for the first time in his life he was not paying attention to the Boy-Who-Lived at all. Though, observed under a watchful pair of eyes, a few Slytherins were paying an undue amount of attention to Gryffindor's Golden Boy.  
  
Harry ate close to nothing in the half an hour he spent in the Hall, his arms stung and throbbed every now and again, bringing him further away from the muted whispers.  
  
"I have to go." He muttered.  
  
Ron just stuffed more meat in his mouth, but Seamus Finnegan, who was sitting on Harry's other side, glanced over in concern.  
  
"Harry, are you okay?" He asked, unknowingly repeating the question Ron had shouted through the door to the bathroom.  
  
"I'm fine." The words had become a mantra. The one thing everyone just had to find out: if Harry was okay. Harry was slowly wanting to break and tell them everything was NOT okay. Everything was a mess, he was confused beyond belief, lost and had begun to wonder if he was still sane.  
  
Seamus seemed to take the reply at face value. "Did you notice Hermione is missing?"  
  
Despite how Harry had been desperately trying to ignore the girl, he quickly checked the table. "Have you seen her?" He inquired once he realized Seamus was right.  
  
"Not since yesterday, no one has, everyone just assumed she's retreated to the library because you're upset with her."  
  
Harry's scar suddenly spread a sharp pain through his head and Harry gasped.  
  
"What's wrong?" Seamus asked, confused.  
  
"Nothing." He choked out. "It's nothing."  
  
He shut his eyes and a flash of... something...  
  
When he opened them quickly the surrounding Gryffindor's were staring.  
  
"I've got to go." He almost ran away from the gazes of the other students as he made his way out of the Great Hall.  
  
---  
  
Harry sunk to his knees two meters away from the door, in the hallway. His head was splitting open.  
  
"Harry? Harry, what's wrong?" Seamus' voice drifted, detached.  
  
Harry looked up through the muddled pain. Seamus' disconnected head was floating, his eyes swirling orange and purple orbs.  
  
"Herm-" He gasped again, blood dripped from his brow, tinting his vision red. "God, Hermione."  
  
"Harry... scar... McGonagall..." Was all Harry managed to catch before he passed out.  
  
---  
  
Hermione whimpered. No one heard her. She sat in the small dark room, which was closing in, her leg twisted at an odd angle and her arm burnt badly. The girl was shaking like a leaf, the aftershocks of the Cruciatus Curse wrecking her body.  
  
"Please," She whispered. "Please, Harry," Her pleas were heard by someone too far away to help her.  
  
---  
  



	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17  
  
0-0  
  
Harry opened his eyes slowly. A familiar sight greeted him with an eternally cheerful obnoxiousness. How did he always end up here?  
  
"Mr. Potter, how are you feeling?" Pomfrey's concerned tone made him think the woman was becoming fond of him. Harry found that strangely amusing.  
  
"Hermione-" He winced as pain erupted in his head.  
  
"The Headmaster will be here soon to discuss that with you." The look on the Matron's face clearly said she disapproved. "For now you are to stay in bed."  
  
0-0  
  
Harry could do nothing but sit in this bed while Hermione was being tortured... or worse.  
  
Pomfrey asked how he was feeling at least five times more before she left him to his thoughts. Harry was tired of being asked how he was, it was all anyone wanted to know since everything had spiraled out of control.  
  
Dumbledore spared him the pleasantries for once, the loss of a student had rattled him, Harry thought, though it wouldn't be noticeable if Harry hadn't conversed with the Headmaster so often.  
  
"Miss Granger has been missing, do you know of her whereabouts?"  
  
"Voldemort's got her."  
  
"Do you know where he is?"  
  
Harry avoided looking Dumbledore in the eyes. "No, sir." He wasn't much use. He had these nightmares, these... visions... and what good were they? They told him nothing.  
  
"Did you see anything familiar?"  
  
"No. It was just dark. And cold." And painful, Harry added in his mind, remembering the horrible feeling.  
  
"Nothing that could give you a clue of the area?"  
  
"No!" Harry couldn't stand it. Not being able to help Hermione. It was like Voldemort was laughing at him.  
  
"I see you have a lot of self-restraint, Potter." Came the cutting voice of Professor Snape.  
  
Harry held his gaze to the ground. "Sorry, sir." He directed his apology to Dumbledore.  
  
"Quite alright, Mr. Potter, you have had a long day. I will leave you two alone." Harry wanted to shout after him, tell him to come back, not to leave him with Snape. But he didn't.  
  
The silence quickly grew.  
  
"Potter." The Potions Master's tone wasn't as cold as it usually was.  
  
"Sir, could I have some privacy?" Harry ventured.  
  
"No, you may not. I will not allow you to mutilate yourself when I have the power to prevent it."  
  
"I don't need your protection." Harry said sullenly. He couldn't stand it that wherever he was now, it was like Snape was one step in front of him. Always there.  
  
"Wrong, Potter, you don't want my protection."  
  
Harry didn't reply. He hated it in here. He hated Snape. He wanted Hermione back, safe and sound. Everything was going wrong. How was Hermione taken? How could Voldemort get into Hogwarts? It was too horrifying a thought to contemplate. If Voldemort could get through the wards then everything was done for. The war wasn't worth beginning.  
  
"I'm alone." He didn't mean to say it out loud.  
  
"As much as you don't like to admit it, I am here." Snape pointed out, his gaze sharp and it felt like the man was seeing inside Harry's head.  
  
"You are here. Ron is here. Dumbledore is here. But I am alone." Harry couldn't look at Snape. Why was he spilling all this to that greasy git when it was stuff he couldn't even say to Ron?  
  
"Explain." Harry had been hoping Snape wouldn't want to hear it.  
  
"I can't." Harry's voice cracked.  
  
"You can."  
  
"You don't understand!" Just like everyone else.  
  
"Then explain it to me."  
  
"I- I'm not really here, you know, I'm in this place and everyone is living and I'm still here. And here is empty, it sucks everything out of me. But I can't get out and I'm still here. Stuck. The only time I can feel real is when..." He looked down at his hands.  
  
There was a long pause in which Harry feared Snape would laugh. Said aloud, it all sounded so... banal.  
  
"It may be that you feel that way but it is an illusion created by your mind. You are separating yourself from reality unconsciously. Possibly due to mistreatment by your relatives and then blind worship from your peers. You have created a place for yourself because it is where you believe you belong. All the while you long to become a part of this 'other world', from which you feel you are exiled, which is made difficult by your conditioning. Maybe your fantasy has become real to you and you no longer put any effort into taking part in what you consider to be the outside. It is not that your mind doesn't 'exist' here as such, you are merely displaced."  
  
The speech surprised Harry. He looked up and met obsidian eyes.  
  
He felt uncomfortable, again it felt like Snape could read his mind. "What are you, a psychiatrist?" The confused expression on Snape's face almost made him want to laugh but Harry hadn't laughed in a long time. "A mind-healer." He corrected.  
  
Snape raised an eyebrow. "I just see a little more than you realize, as you should have learned in Potions many times."  
  
Harry nodded. "If you don't mind, sir, why are you being so nice?"  
  
"I wouldn't call it nice, Potter, but for once in your life you are being co-operative. It does make a pleasant difference."  
  
Harry just nodded meekly again. "What else do you think about me?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"What you were talking about before. What else do you think about me?"  
  
It looked like Snape was reluctant to answer.  
  
"I won't get mad."  
  
"You are thoughtless. You don't connect your own actions to other people and consequences aren't considered. When you agree it usually means you are humoring someone just to get out of a situation. Like now, you may be tired but you would normally be more hostile. You want me to go away, yet you want to hear what I have to say. You have discovered you cannot get rid of me so you are humoring me by co-operating, all the while you are waiting for an opportunity to temporarily escape from your own personal hell.  
  
"You are not happy that I have implied that the place you believe yourself to be trapped in was created by you, you think I am saying it simply because I dislike you, at the same time you wonder if I am right.  
  
"You feel responsible for Miss Granger's disappearance and that will only become worse. You feel responsible for Diggory's death, a guilt that has festered. You may have created a... memorial?... for him because you are afraid you will let the guilt go."  
  
"I don't want to hear any more!" Harry burst out.  
  
Snape's eyes widened slightly. "You have." He stated gravely. "Potter, that is not wise."  
  
"I haven't!" Harry denied, gripping the sheets tighter.  
  
Snape sighed in what sounded like frustration. "May I see it?"  
  
"I didn't, I swear." Harry put all the sincerity he could muster into his voice.  
  
"I just want to see it, Potter, nothing more." There was something in the tall man's voice that made Harry shiver. It was something Harry had never heard from Snape. Sorrow?  
  
Maybe it was the something that made Harry lift his shirt but Harry didn't know. All he knew was that Snape's expression made him feel cold and even more isolated. If even his most hated professor was going to look at him with compassion because of this what was real? Harry could tell he wasn't making sense but the spreading ice made him tremble.  
  
"You may put your shirt down," Snape sounded so tired.  
  
"I'm sorry." He said hurriedly.  
  
"Merlin, Potter, what happened?" It came out as a groan, uncharacteristic of Snape.  
  
"What?"  
  
"What did we do?"  
  
"Nothing," Harry furrowed his brow. What was Snape talking about?  
  
"Did anyone even have a clue? Were we all blind? You are worshipped, you would think someone would notice. Anyone!"  
  
Harry didn't know what to say so he said nothing.  
  
"Potter, get some sleep." The gruff command from Snape was the last thing he said before he left, his robes billowing around him.  
  
Harry sat in the darkness. Harry didn't realize it when he woke up but he'd been unconscious for a day, only surfacing that evening. Enough time for the entire school to panic about Hermione.  
  
But Harry's mind had moved off Hermione temporarily. Snape had acted more than a little strange. The chill, a result of the 'visit', had quickly made a lump rise in his throat. How did Snape know?  
  
Suddenly he felt more trapped than he ever had before.  
  
0-0  
  
Draco didn't know what he was thinking when he crept up to the Hospital Wing after dinner. He thought it was a stupid idea but it didn't stop him from doing it.  
  
A second after he opened the door a body came smashing into him, slamming both him and the other boy to the ground.  
  
"Potter!" He whispered when he saw who it was.  
  
"Malfoy, what are you doing here?" The hiss had a desperate tinge to it that made Draco uneasy.  
  
"None of your business. Where are you going?"  
  
"None of your business." Potter replied. "I have to go."  
  
Draco watched as Potter pushed himself up. For a reason he couldn't fathom at that moment but the insane urge to not let Potter go, Draco grabbed his ankle.  
  
"Let me go!"  
  
"Where are you going?" He asked again.  
  
"It doesn't matter."  
  
"You're not going to... kill yourself... are you?" Draco felt awkward asking.  
  
"No. Now let me go." That wasn't very reassuring. But no doubt some of the rumors were true and Potter wasn't going to go and throw himself off the tower. Maybe he was going to go and... Draco found the concept obscene.  
  
"No. Potter, don't be stupid."  
  
"Please, let me go." It was the look on Potter's face. It was the sound of his voice. It was the whole situation. Whatever it was, Draco let go.  
  
Potter was around the corner before he could say anything else.  
  
Draco swore.  
  
0-0  
  
So this was how his life would turn out, Harry thought, in small rooms where the walls always seemed to close in, trying to get out.  
  
The fourth floor bathroom was cold, moonlight streamed in from the windows, illuminating the tiles. Harry was familiar with this setting. Snape was right. This was routine. But to break it would be worse than he could imagine.  
  
He wondered what Malfoy was doing. He found he really didn't care. With any luck Malfoy would be so pissed of he wouldn't tell Madame Pomfrey.  
  
"I have to go." Harry murmured. He didn't know what it meant but it had been repeating in his mind for the last few days.  
  
His arm was covered with scars. They were his attempts at freedom. And they worked. For a while. Until he was trapped again.  
  
He realized that maybe that and wanting to die weren't so different. Maybe suicide wasn't about control for him after all. Harry shuddered at the word 'suicide', so harsh for deliverance.  
  
Harry had slowly begun to see that it didn't last forever. The freedom from cutting didn't stick. It struck him that suicide was the way out. Permanent freedom. He nursed the thought with morbid fascination.  
  
It was the ultimate. It could achieve what he could not with bloody sleeves.  
  
Harry noticed his shirt was clean. He wondered what Pomfrey thought. But then it didn't really matter. It wasn't as if almost everyone didn't have some sort of idea by now. Pomfrey's efforts were useless in the end, Harry shook his head, he was already bloodying his arms again.  
  
Maybe this was where he would be for the rest of his life. Maybe he would be stuck in this world that wasn't a world but a figment of his imagination. It was a thought Harry found difficult to accept.  
  
He didn't have time to think about it any longer as the door burst open.  
  
It was Sirius.  
  
"Harry, oh Merlin,"  
  
And Harry knew this wasn't just about his being here.  
  
"I don't know how to tell you,"  
  
The chill grew stronger.  
  
"Hermione, she's-"  
  
"Dead." Harry whispered.  
  
"Yes, I am so sorry." Sirius knelt down. He recoiled in surprise.  
  
"Harry, your arms!"  
  
"She's dead." Harry said.  
  
"I'm sorry." Sirius repeated.  
  
"Oh God."  
  
Sirius helped him up, though Harry wasn't making an effort.  
  
"Are you sure? How do you know? How can she be dead?"  
  
"We're sure. I will tell you everything later. Let's just get you back to the Infirmary for now." Sirius talked like he was gentling a horse.  
  
0-0  
  
Snape came sweeping in just a minute after Harry arrived in the Hospital Wing.  
  
Pomfrey and Sirius were hovering over him. Snape's entrance was the last straw.  
  
"Leave me alone!" Harry finally yelled. He just wanted it gone. All of it. Hermione was dead. How could she be dead? Hermione couldn't die.  
  
"Harry, it's going to be okay." Sirius' pitiful attempt to calm him down just made him angrier.  
  
"I want to be alone, Sirius, just leave me alone." Harry pleaded.  
  
Harry hardly noticed it when Snape stalked up to the bed. "Black, Poppy, you may leave."  
  
Sirius gave him a shocked glare.  
  
"But Severus-"  
  
"Poppy, trust me."  
  
Pomfrey led Sirius out, the dark-haired man furiously arguing the whole time.  
  
"Leave me alone." Harry said firmly.  
  
"I think it would be best if you were not alone right now."  
  
"I don't care what you think!" Harry half sobbed.  
  
"Whatever you believe, you can move on, this is not the end of the world. And it is certainly not your fault."  
  
Snape was wrong. It was his fault. It was all his fault.  
  
"Oh God." He could hardly breathe.  
  
Snape was still there. He sat at Harry's bedside. He didn't laugh. He didn't take off points. He didn't make sarcastic comments. He just was.  
  
And even though Snape was a foot away Harry felt more alone than ever.  
  
0-0  
  
End of Chapter 17  
  
Thanks to: Anonymous, RAiNbOwGrL22, MerlinHalliwell, HecateDeMort, liulover, foolishangel87, SidheLady, Samsan and FroBoy.  
  
Immortal Tears of: Draco/you should already have some clue but if you don't, I'm not telling. 


	18. Chapter 18

Thanks to: valanthe, kirsty, Takuto-kun, Dervla, FawkesRises, lyss33, RAiNbOwGrL22, brokentoy19, FroBoy, Charmina, peppy132, Read300300, youngandhopeless1, Talons, HecateDeMort, foolishangel87. 

A/N: I have the next chapter half written, I'm off school for the next two months, so I swear 19 will be up within a week (and I'd adore reviews and suggestions!) And about Hermione: She'll feature a bit more in 19.

Chapter 18

0-0

Harry wasn't sure life hadn't just stopped. It seemed like time had come to a stand still.

Hermione was gone because of him. She was dead because of him. He didn't know what he could possibly say to her parents that could make up for that. What he would say to Ron. 'Oh, and by the way, I'm sorry I killed your daughter/best-friend, accidents happen!' Harry scowled. That would go by well.

The loneliness and despair were sharper than ever. He wanted to get out. He wanted to die. He knew it was cowardly, the easy way out, but it was an escape. Freedom.

"Mr. Potter, awake, I see." Snape's voice barely penetrated his far away thoughts.

Harry didn't even bother to greet the Potions professor. He couldn't find the energy nor the willpower to be cheerful.

"Are you feeling better?"

The question was strange, coming from Snape and it made Harry pause in his answer.

"I'll take that as a 'no', Potter."

"Yes, sir." He found the title came out involuntarily. He wondered if he respected the man. He didn't despise Snape so much anymore, but respect?

Harry thought about last night. Snape had stayed. He had slept in the chair across from the bed. Harry thought it unbelievable that the man had lowered himself to sleeping in a chair in the same room as Harry Potter. He wondered if the man had a cramped neck.

Snape seemed to see right through him for a moment but he did not reply.

"The mutt will be allowed to see you later today, I ask you to not make any attempts on your life before then."

Harry was speechless. What exactly was Snape trying to say? Had he gained such a reputation that the logical answer was such? But then, Harry thought, considering that was exactly what he had been thinking, maybe he deserved the reputation.

0-0

"Harry," Sirius' voice quivered. "How are you holding up?"

"Fine." He answered, knowing no one but himself would believe it. He was fine, though, better than he'd been in a long time. Now he was certain about what he wanted, it all felt so far away. "I'm just a little shaken." He added for the effect and immediately felt bad for trying to manipulate his godfather.

"Good, good," Sirius fiddled with his sleeves. Harry scowled inwardly. He even made his own godfather uncomfortable.

Harry stared at everything but the tall man, swallowing several times to try to remove the growing lump in his throat.

The room was empty besides the two of them, Madame Pomfrey had finally given Harry a private room off the infirmary. It was a small comfort but at least he knew that after... he wouldn't have to ever go back there.

"Could I have some time alone?" It was all he wanted. He wanted it all to be gone. Voldemort. This sick reality. The pain.

The man smiled weakly and told him he'd visit tomorrow with Lupin. Harry winced, even though he knew he was forcing Sirius' retreat, he missed the closeness already.

OO

"Hey Harry." Ron's voice was dull. It made Harry's head throb. He thought the headache was caused by the overwhelming guilt that was plaguing him. It only got worse as he saw Ron's expression. And his red-rimmed eyes.

"I'm sorry," He blurted out. "I'm so sorry, it was my fault, I should've-"

"It's You-Know-Who's fault." Harry was grateful for the anger he heard from Ron. Even if it was misdirected. It was better than the hurt, quiet greeting.

Harry felt awkward faced with his best-friend, he was halfway between comforting the red-head and apologizing profusely.

"How are you feeling?" Ron asked, concern colouring his features.

He felt the guilt again. Ron was worried about him. He was the burden his friends had to carry.

He didn't answer the question. He didn't want to tell the truth and he didn't want to lie. "When is she-" He couldn't finish, it sounded too real.

"Monday."

"Okay." Harry nodded. He wanted to say goodbye. He wanted to say he was sorry.

0-0

"Will you just leave me alone!" Harry yelled as someone knocked on the door. He hadn't been alone since Sirius had come up. It was as if he'd induced the flow of morose visitors.

"No, Mr. Potter, I will not 'just leave you alone'. Five points from Gryffindor for disrespect."

Harry groaned at Snape's voice. It was one he had been hearing far too often, in his opinion. "What do you want?" He knew he was just asking for more points to be removed but he was too tired and too miserable to care.

"I deemed this an appropriate moment for one of our sessions."

Harry let himself sink back into the pillows. "I don't want to talk to you."

"Believe me, I have noticed, but it seems you don't want to talk to anyone else, including Black."

"I don't want to talk about it." Harry stared out the window on his left. It was a nice window, he found, it looked over the lake and edge of the forest. Every now and then Harry would swear he saw a tentacle of the Giant Squid.

"Better. Why not?"

"It doesn't matter."

"What on earth makes you think that slicing yourself up and then almost throwing yourself off the Astronomy Tower are completely irrelevant?"

The way Snape put it made Harry's blood boil.

"I don't know, maybe I'm that 'imbecile of a Gryffindor' you always call me."

"I'm sure you can come up with a better answer than that, Potter."

"Yeah, I suppose I can only do it halfway, right?" Harry said bitterly.

"Ashamed, then, ashamed of living?" Snape twisted the words, his eyebrow raised.

"That's not what I said!" Harry exclaimed.

"You don't want to talk about it, remember, Potter? So you're leaving me to assume these things, I'm quite happy to go on, are you?"

"You don't have to be so bloody nasty! You don't want to have to waste your time talking to little 'celebrity' Potter. You know what? I hate you too!" Harry could hear the footsteps silenced outside the door. He felt petty, going off like that.

"Hate you, Potter?" Snape laughed shortly. "You are a child, I merely dislike you, I have never liked children. I reserve my hate for those who deserve it, such as the Dark Lord."

Harry stared. Snape didn't hate him? Snape, who had appeared in every mannerism and every acerbic insult to find the Gryffindor unbearable, didn't loathe Harry with every fibre of his being? Harry found it very unlikely.

"Why do you come back, everyday, just to insult me?"

"Do you think that is my life's purpose, Potter, to torment you? I think you do enough of that yourself. I am trying to help you." A heavy emphasis on the 'trying'.

Harry shook his head resignedly. "Help me how? Intimidation therapy?"

"If it works. Look, Potter, you had a nice, friendly 'family healer' come in to talk to you. And didn't you get along just brilliantly? From what I can gather, you talked nonsensically to him for over an hour and a half!"

"I did not!" Harry flushed. How did Snape know?

"You probably didn't speak a grain of truth, yet I know you have lied to me less times than I can count on my right hand!"

He had nothing to say to that.

Then Snape did something that surprised him.

He sat in the chair opposite the bed, ran a hand through his hair, and sighed.

"Merlin, Potter, what can I do? What could possibly get through that thick head of yours? You are so set on your plans of self-destruction that you see nothing. And Miss Granger's unfortunate death has only led you further down this path. I cannot leave without fearing you will find some way to end your life."

Harry was shocked the man would admit to being afraid of anything, much less his suicide. He was shocked that this man, who 'disliked' him so severely could find such a thing fearful. After all, Harry didn't find it frightening.

He looked at Snape and what he saw left him with chills. The haunting, questioning look that was so different from what usually masked the professor's face. He couldn't avoid the overwhelming need to defend himself.

"What does it matter, Snape? Who cares? Now Hermione is dead and it's my fault. I can't kill Voldemort, I'm too bloody weak! Don't you see? I may as well get it done now! It feels like everything is crushing up painfully just so it can explode in my face." His voice had faded as the dread solidified.

It finally felt like his words were having an impact. That Snape might have been beginning to understand.

"We are leaving on Sunday." Came the certain and harrowing words. His heart sank rapidly.

"No, you said- I can't-"

"I will be here tomorrow at noon. I am going to lock the door after me. Tomorrow morning I would like you to receive a visitor who I think you should meet with before you leave. I will inform Madame Pomfrey that you will be requiring a Dreamless Sleep potion tonight."

Harry watched, dumbly, as Snape left, his movements tired as if it had been a very long day. Harry sat replaying the words in his head. What had he said? What had he done wrong? A sense of sickening apprehension and alarm rushed over him. He lost the contents of his stomach to the steel dustbin.

0-0

Snape left the Hospital Wing finally sure of what he had to do with Potter. He was embarrassed about his losing face in that room but it had seemed to bring the dilemma to a close. He had been debating seriously about uprooting Potter but had been uncertain of its usefulness and possible negative affects. However, the latest of developments and lack of progress had joined to clearly indicate the only real choice. Even then, he worried about Potter taking the move badly.

Severus had been vigorously ignoring the fact that he would be taking on Potter full-time for Merlin knew how long. It drifted about in the back of his mind, absently, and eventually he would have to face it. But he could not allow his personal problems with Potter to obstruct the cause. Such problems had simply become absurd now he had discovered further information on the boy. It boiled down to James Potter, a rotting corpse, six feet under in Godric's Hollow. Snape wasn't sure it was a good enough excuse.

He entered the Headmaster's office with a sense of rest about him. He had made the decision that had been bothering him for the past fortnight.

"Albus, I have chosen to relocate Potter."

The old man looked like he had expected this and offered him a lemon drop, which he turned down with a sneer.

"I assume you will use a manor outside of England?"

Snape affirmed. His home in Pembroke was unknown. All of his other inherited manors were illustrious and he had fought for them with multiple pureblood families. Land was power in the pureblood system and Snape needed a fair bit of credit and authority to be high in the rankings of Death Eaters. If anyone were to suspect, having the two of them in any of the England manors would be a cue for disaster. Besides, Severus was fond of Wales.

0-0


	19. Chapter 19

Thanks to all who reviewed. I delivered as promised. I'm not entirely certain about this chapter, I may re-post later, but I don't know. 

Chapter 19

0-0

There was a loud knock on the door but Harry didn't want to speak to anyone. He ignored it. The door opened anyway, evidently the visitor didn't give a damn.

Harry had forgotten about Snape's comment before he had left. So Malfoy must have been the person Snape wanted him to see. Harry found he was not adverse to the idea. He was curious about who had roughed up the Slytherin, he hadn't had time to ask the last time he'd seen the boy, he'd been too busy running.

"Hey, Potter."

"Malfoy."

Harry watched as the blond boy fiddled, something he hadn't seen before. He seemed awkward just being there.

"So..." He unsuccessfully tried to think of a topic.

"Professor Snape said you wanted to see me."

Harry's jaw dropped open. "But- he-" He spluttered. "I don't!"

Malfoy shrugged. "Then I'll be leaving." He turned on his heel and Harry called after him before he could stop himself.

"Malfoy, wait-"

The Slytherin paused but did not face him.

"Who beat you up?"

Harry could've sworn Malfoy growled.

"No one of consequence." The answer sounded almost self-loathing. Harry wondered if Malfoy was sick or something.

"You don't deserve that." He said quietly. He knew what it felt like to get beaten on and be ashamed.

"You're in no position to say that." Malfoy did sort of turn around now, but his face was still hidden. Harry could see the boy was wound tightly, his shoulders tense and his arms close to his body.

"I may not be your friend-"

"You're not." Malfoy cut him off, disgust clear in his voice.

"Who had the guts?" He asked, knowing it wasn't his business and it was bound to blow up in his face.

At first Harry didn't think he would answer but he looked Harry straight in the eye.

"A group of ignorant oafs who had a disagreement with me." Harry wondered what the 'disagreement' was.

"Why didn't you tell?" He wasn't going to stop questioning his rival when he was on a roll.

"A little Slytherin thing called 'blackmail', you wouldn't understand, Potter."

Harry was taken aback. What kind of material did these guys have on Malfoy?

"Professor Snape says you're leaving. Why?"

"You know the rumors?" A cold spread over him, giving this to Malfoy would probably mean a nightmare when he returned but Harry realized he was leaving for what could be a long time so it didn't really matter what he said.

Malfoy nodded.

"A good half of them are true." He looked away.

"That would be the suicidal and bloody part?"

"What's the other part?"

"You don't want to know."

"Oh." Harry murmured absently.

"Are- are you okay?" Malfoy faltered and he flushed slightly.

"I don't know." He replied, truthfully.

Malfoy hesitated. "For what it's worth, Potter, I hope you get better."

Harry was sick of people surprising him. If people were going to get contrary couldn't they do it somewhere else? He had his own problems to deal with and no time to face their abruptly changing moods. All he needed now was Voldemort to turn up and announce he had turned to Gandhi as his mentor and guiding force.

Voldemort. Harry's face darkened.

Malfoy, seeming to realize Harry was preoccupied, left him with his thoughts.

Harry was shrouded in a mist. He desperately wished he could cut.

0-0

Harry felt like a coward but he had avoided the goodbyes by leaving the Hospital Wing before anyone could turn up to be touchy and tearful. He'd taken sanctuary in one of the dead-end corridors in the west part of the dungeons. He figured if he timed it right and listened carefully he could intercept Snape on the way up. Now he had four hours to wait out. He thought he could've worked out a better plan of action.

It was at that point it struck him. He finally had freedom from Madame Pomfrey and the constant stream of visitors.

The bathroom wasn't familiar but it was quiet and out of the way. Harry transfigured a set of cards from his trunk into a small, sharp knife.

His left forearm had very little skin not scarred. Most of his body was similar. Some scars, though, were not from his habit. Like the ones on his back. The large gash from his shoulder to his hip was certainly not from him. Harry squeezed his eyes shut.

Harry unclasped his robes and rolled up his sleeve. He stared down at the familiar marks. He slid the knife up his arm, blood appearing in its wake.

"So cold." He muttered. He was so bloody cold.

_Further._

The situation reminded him, disturbingly, of when Sirius had found him. He wondered if Sirius was looking this time.

The three incisions varied in depth, the last one bleeding profusely. They crossed over the parallel white lines. Harry found it curious that he hadn't run out of skin yet. But then, his body was a sickeningly vast canvas.

He exhaled slowly through his nose. His body slumped and his eyes closed. He was warmer.

0-0

Snape found it troubling that Potter had caught him on the way up to collect the boy. The child was very pale. Realization dawned on him.

He gave the boy a pained glance as he led him to the Entrance Hall.

He kept a close eye on him all the way to the carriage.

"Did your little friends get their farewell?" He had predicted the answer to that question already.

"No." Potter didn't elaborate and Severus didn't ask him to.

It was when they stepped into the carriage, and out of the sight of any prying stares, that he leaned forward and grasped his students arm. Potter's wince said it all but he lifted the sleeve anyway and tightened his grip when he saw the washed cuts. They were quite serious by any standards.

He let the arm go with a sneer.

"I see our discussion had no impact."

Potter appeared to find his shoes fascinating.

Snape had a choice now. He could heal the cuts or leave them be. If he healed them Potter might feel obliged to replace them. If he left them...

"I will let you know, once more, I want you to stop mutilating yourself, though with that knowledge I expect you will do nothing."

"It's hard." Somehow, with all his dislike of children and Potter in particular, Snape didn't hear a whine but a quiet truth, wrought of experience and despair.

"The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph."

"I don't want glory." Snape thought that hard to believe.

"What do you want, Potter?"

"You know exactly what I want. I want freedom. I want escape."

Severus was suddenly hit with a heavy feeling. He was trying with everything he had to fix the boy and that was the most certain and unwavering thing he had heard from Potter in a long time. It was the first time he felt that helping Potter might not mean keeping him alive. And he found it scared him more than he could ever admit.

0-0

In Snape's study Harry sat, uncomfortably, on the large chair in the corner with a book that failed to hold his attention. Snape had not let him out of his sight since they had arrived at the huge manor. Harry hoped it would not always be like that.

"How do they know?" Harry finally let the question out.

"Excuse me?" Snape lifted his gaze from his work to meet Harry's eyes.

Harry looked away quickly. "How do they know Hermione is dead?"

The professor's expression turned neutral. Harry froze. "Her body appeared in the center of the Great Hall at dinner."

Harry was horrified. His stomach churned dangerously. "W-why?" Why the Great Hall? Why at dinner? Why make a show of that?

"I believe lunch is in order." Snape stood abruptly.

Harry's heart clenched painfully as realization struck. "It was me, wasn't it? They wanted me to see!" His pulse ran faster, whether in anger or despair, he didn't know.

Snape inclined his head just slightly. "That, most likely, was the intention. Had you been there..."

Harry could hardly speak for the fury rushing up his throat. "It's one big show, isn't it? The lives, the deaths. No one even cares anymore!" Harry glared at Snape with all the strength he could muster. "You took me away, so I wouldn't have to face the truth; it's all because of me! What's the bloody point?"

Snape took several large strides forward and Harry stepped back in spite of his strengthened resolve.

"The point, Potter? The point is, you are falling apart. Preventing your early and entirely aimless death has become more important than any other engagements I may have. I took you away with only one intention: to help you. For whatever reason, the fates say you can defeat Voldemort, I know what you will need to arm you for this. You can accept my aid or continue on your confused path."

"The fates?" Harry thought that was a strange sentence.

Snape scowled. "A neglected mention by the Headmaster. It is not the place nor the time to enlighten you on that."

"Tell me!" Harry

"Or what, Potter?" Snape had a nasty sneer on his face, one Harry had not seen in quite a while.

He just shook his head. This was too much to deal with.

"I think I'll go now."

Snape looked anxious. Harry knew why.

"I won't- I don't-" He struggled for the right words.

"Don't do anything rash." Was the only thing Snape said.

"Why do you have to say that? Do you think I'm going to go upstairs and decide to kill myself?!" Although many people had expressed those concerns, and none so bluntly as Snape, it still grated on his nerves and felt like an extreme invasion of privacy.

"Or mutilate yourself, or drown yourself in self-pity or any other number of unfortunate acts." The professor said coldly, his eyes focused on Harry.

"Well, I'm not."

"You are aware I know when you lie, I cannot see why you persist on doing so."

Harry felt his teeth grinding. He'd have to live with this for how long?

"There are many things that could happen when you are in such a state, Potter, so many things that I am forced to consider the consequences. What says that when you walk up the stairs that all the windows in the left wing of my house will not explode outwards?"

"What?"

"The rat, Potter, do you remember your rodent friend?"

"But I had my wand then!"

"A moot point. There is still accidental magic. And consider, accidental magic in such intensity and far-removed intent that you displayed in your Transfiguration class leads us to believe you have the potential to master wandless magic."

"I thought I'd just botched the spell cause I was upset, like you said." Harry was confused.

"A transfiguration spell, no matter the complexity, has absolutely no power to cause something to explode. Several charms have the potential to cause the subject to catch fire, though even then, the charm only prompted the spark, not the fire itself. Your intentions themselves decide on the magic performed."

Harry knew Snape was deliberately trying to provoke him. Despite this, he could not prevent himself from feeling betrayed. Dumbledore left him in the dark so many times it seemed that the old man was working against him, not with him.

Snape continued without waiting for a reaction. "You will never come into that potential, you have very little emotional control and your outbursts are violent and unpredictable, any acts of wandless magic will be during your 'fits'."

Harry concentrated on anything but the man in front of him. He had prompted this entire conversation, full of revelations and unexpected harsh truths.

"But such a discussion must be continued another time, for lunch is far past due." Snape said this carefully and Harry just nodded in agreement, too tired and too worn to do anything else.

"By the way, Professor, here's that assignment." He dug into his robes and pulled out the near forgotten parchment.

0-0

Harry went to bed but he did not sleep. The covers were magicked to keep warm but he was frozen. He held his arm viciously tight. Hermione. The fates. Voldemort. Ron. Malfoy. Blood. It all swam in his head.

Ron wasn't there to keep him company when he couldn't sleep. He wasn't at Hogwarts anymore. He was in some wretched mansion with his malignant Potions professor.

The nightmares were worse than ever.

0-0

Snape's gut told him not to read that parchment. It told him it would only keep him from sleeping. It told him that it was not a good time. It was a shame Snape had never been into the habit of doing what he was told.

_Every human being comes into this world dying. I have discovered, since learning about the wizarding world, that people are desperate to avoid this harsh inevitable. Our only true purpose in life is to die and we cannot avoid fate. Fate comes upon us in its full fury and it rushes through us, fate wrecks everything in its path, not stopping for the reluctant or burdened. We come into life dying and it suffocates me._

_I grew up knowing what it felt like to be hated. I grew into what it felt like to be loved. I have decided that neither really means anything. I will settle for being understood. But as I move further through life I see that maybe I will never be understood and now I know what it feels like to be alone._

_Fate, it seems, has etched my path in stone. I am expected to die for the people who hate me and love me and don't know a thing about me. I am afraid beyond my wildest imaginings yet I cannot feel a thing._

_I bleed because for the shortest time I can be alive. I can feel the rush and the reality. In that moment I can shove my life in the face of fate and say: I know your game and here's my personal Fuck You._

0-0


	20. Chapter 20

Thanks to everyone who reviewed (and sorry for the wait).

charmina: It might be a Swedish thing, cause I've never heard of it, but I've never heard of lots of things. Thanks for your review! It's great to get one which has flesh to it!

0-0

Chapter 20

0-0

Harry woke up feeling particularly unpleasant. Every fiber of his being had told him not to give that parchment to Snape last night, yet he had done it anyway. Damn his instincts, damn his stupidity. He didn't want to open his eyes but did it anyway. The room had already become more familiar. He didn't look around and think, in a moment of stunned apathy, I'm living in Snape's house. It was more of a resigned sigh. Harry thought this comforting and rather like a security blanket. It was a feeling he had become closely acquainted with, resignation. Resignation to his fate, his life and, with any luck, his death.

Harry winced at the morbid turn of thoughts and shifted so he could lift his legs over the side of the bed. He reveled in the soft feeling of the sheets for a second before pulling himself up. That was another thing about the room. It was comfortable. The entire mansion was sickeningly comfortable. So unlike the Potions Professor that he knew the man must have inherited it. It wasn't only nice, it was impractical. The ridiculous amount of rooms, the hallways, the out-of-the-way bathrooms, the staircases that seemed to go neither up nor down, everything about it was just weird. It had more personality than Hogwarts, with it's moving staircases and hidden rooms. That reminded him, he had promised himself that he would look for secret passageways. Snape would find the notion ludicrous, but what else was Harry meant to do with his days, study?

There was a sharp rap on the door. "Breakfast is in half an hour, Potter."

His second day in the house of that cold man. He couldn't help but think it was better than Hogwarts. He wasn't constantly reminded of Sirius. He loved his godfather, or at least he thought he did, he didn't know exactly what it felt like, but the awkward visits only left Harry with guilt and nostalgia. Sometimes the man was up, sometimes down, sometimes he'd yell, cry, scream or just walk away. Harry couldn't handle the inconsistencies and didn't want to admit it, so he just dealt with it. He never said he dealt well. And then there was Hermione...

The half an hour until he had to face the day went fast, he felt he'd barely blinked since Snape had informed him of the impending doom of breakfast. He reluctantly made his way to the Dining Room.

The second he sat down he felt self-conscious. Snape was staring at him, he knew it. But when he looked up, the professor was simply swallowing another bite. His paranoia made him nervous, which only made him feel worse.

Biting his lip, he asked the question that had been bothering him all night, one that he had been trying, but failing miserably, to ignore. "If I had given myself over to Voldemort, would Hermione have lived?"

Snape looked at him with an unidentifiable expression. "Potter, you have no depth." His mocking voice grated on Harry's nerves.

He didn't say anything in reply, because what was there to say?

"Of course she wouldn't have lived, you stupid boy, if you had died, all muggleborn witches and wizards would be dead." Snape finally said.

But Hermione might have survived, he thought but he did not voice that, for Snape would shoot him down in two seconds flat.

Snape must have sensed his mood because the man turned away. "Finish your breakfast, Potter."

Suddenly, he no longer had an appetite.

0-0

Severus had no idea what to do. He was completely lost. And he hated the feeling. It that was how Potter felt all the time, he wasn't surprised the boy was so revoltingly damaged.

He could train Potter in Occlumency but there was no way he wanted to venture into the boy's mind. He could teach him battle-magic but there were too many destructive methods that could be used as self-injurious that he wouldn't even consider it. He might simply attempt to tutor the child, but as harmless as that seemed, it would only sit the two of them back in familiar territory. Severus needed something Potter wasn't used to. It was harder than it sounded.

And then there was Potter's ingrained stubbornness. The boy was insufferable. That said, Snape realized the child really wasn't as bad as he originally thought. Or at least not as arrogant. Snape thought the boy had an amazing lack of self-worth. It emanated from Potter's every action, it made him cringe at his own previous oblivion.

He stared at the garden outside of the window, stacks of neglected assignments on his desk in front of him. Potter was reading on one of the benches under the maple. A history book, Snape noted, slightly surprised.

It wasn't that he cared about the boy, he felt an obligation to protect him, partly because of the prophecy, partly because of Potter being his student. Neither of those facts managed to hide his dislike for his charge. The hatred of his father. Hypocritical of him, perhaps, to judge others by their parents.

He sighed and stood. Time to suffer through dinner once again.

0-0

"That mutt has been harassing Albus over you being here." Severus thought he should inform the boy of his godfather's concerns. Though he thought very little of them himself. It had turned out that Potter had made no farewells at all. Stupid boy.

Harry stared at Snape open-mouthed, clearly displaying the remnants of his last bite. "Can't he visit?"

"No." He replied sharply, shuddering inwardly at the thought of Black being in his house.

"But-"

"No." He repeated, silencing Potter. He enjoyed the anger in Potter's face. Snape restrained himself slightly, remembering the boy's pitiful state of mind.

0-0

Harry sat absolutely still. He regretted it now, not saying goodbye to Sirius. Harry missed his godfather already and he missed the way Sirius had looked that night in the Astronomy Tower.

_"I love you too, Harry."_

Harry's chest became tight. But did he know love? He knew the Dursleys. He knew what it felt like to be unloved. He knew what it felt like to be hurt and angry and sad. Harry scowled. He hated that he couldn't believe Sirius. Sirius was probably sick of him and his stupid issues.

"I hate you!" He screamed at Snape, knocking his chair back as he stood, breaking the tense silence. He hated himself more though.

He could see Snape's jaw grind and knew he was irritating his reluctant host.

"Obviously I care about your feelings, Potter." The older man snapped sarcastically.

"Shut up! I hate you and I hate it here!"

"You hate it everywhere, boy!" Snape spat, making Harry flinch at the name. Nevertheless he continued. He didn't know why.

"Like you'd know, Snivellus!" He returned with the name he'd heard Sirius say once.

A split second was between standing and being sprawled across the ground.

0-0

Harry was too shocked to do anything. He was just frozen on the icy floor. Snape seemed equally still. Harry felt the bile rise in his throat and his muscles tensed. He grabbed the wall to drag himself to his feet.

Somehow, before he'd re-orientated himself, he was running. Out the door, up the stairs and into the second door on the right, slamming it behind him. He pressed his back to the wood, the burning in his chest unbearable as he choked out a sob.

_"You listen to me, freak!"_

Snape didn't understand. Harry had been fooled for a moment into thinking that he might, but now he knew, Snape was no better than everyone else. Maybe he was like Sirius, Harry ventured, he seemed to want to care but he couldn't understand. He wanted to believe that. Of course, there was one large obstacle: he was Snape. Snape hated him! Despised him, even.

He fumbled with the draw. He had to. No matter what Snape thought or said. The man was a liar. He lifted the books and the silver glinted. Harry let out a silent sigh of relief and he slumped back against the bureau.

He couldn't believe he was reduced to this. This humiliation. He was isolated in his Professor's house in the middle of God knew where. And he'd called the greasy git 'Snivellus' to his face. Sirius had mentioned bullying Snape when they were in school. Harry had felt horrible. He knew how it felt to be pushed around and embarrassed constantly. He lived with Dudley Dursley, after all.

But there was something he needed to prove, as pitiful and pathetic as it was. He needed to know, with fair certainty, that Snape was exactly the same as the Dursleys. Maybe it wasn't completely fair, but he was certain. Snape, just like Vernon Dursley, struck him when angry. It was enough.

"He doesn't." He whispered, feeling stupid for saying it. "He doesn't care." What an idiot he was.

0-0

_Sirius,_

_I hate it so much here. I hate Snape. Please come get me. Please. I'll try harder, I promise._

_Harry_

0-0

Snape felt physically ill.

He'd destroyed any progress he'd made, over something he'd provoked the boy into. Of course, he was still furious over the 'Snivellus' comment. But that didn't mean he wanted Potter to slit his wrists over it. Abused child and all.

Abused child. What a sorrowful term, Snape scorned, it screamed feeble and piteous. Which, he reflected, in some ways Potter was. Snape hardly knew anything about the boy though, and just as he thought he'd got the child pinned down, he was proved wrong. And he thought he could solve Potter's problems? The boy would be better off in St. Mungo's.

Still, Snape realized the bitter reality was that Potter would simply become food for the press and it was the kind of publicity that would never fade. The staff at St. Mungos were discrete and professional but that would not stop the information leaking within a day.

His mind drifted back to the dining room. How could he have hit Potter? It was about the worst move he could have made. But really, he considered, the progress couldn't have been that great, Potter didn't appear to have made any rapport with him at all.

0-0

Harry knew as soon as he wrote the letter, he couldn't send it. Sirius had-

_"I love you too, Harry."_

He wouldn't send the letter because he was afraid of what could happen. He could get collected from this awful place. He could get something from Sirius that would be reassuring but disappointing. Or he could get no reply at all. What if Sirius was angry he hadn't said goodbye? What if he-

_"I know. It's okay."_

But there was nothing worse that holding it in his hand and reading it over and knowing he was still lying. Even after all his promises and promises of redemption, he was still at it and still lying. He'd try harder? Try harder at what? Hiding it?

_"And if I did it again?"_

_"Then I would be upset."_

He couldn't let Sirius down like that. He couldn't keep lying to his godfather.

_"Thank you."_

_"For what?"_


	21. Chapter 21

_A curse struck her. Hermione screamed, hurt and terrified. _

_"Don't think Potter's going to save you this time," The man growled, his hand suddenly on her shoulder. "You're mine right now."_

_His other hand slipped up her leg and her heart stopped beating. _

Bile rose and he choked. He leapt out of the bed, his face dripping with sweat and his hands shaking with the nausea.

Vomit descended grotesquely into the porcelain bowl, tainting the pure white with its flaws. Hermione. Merlin, he couldn't breathe. How could that...? Harry let a dry sob escape his mouth. He couldn't comprehend that happening to her. Could she still be alive? He remembered Snape's words with a stabbing pain. How her body must have looked, he couldn't...

So he didn't, trying to shove it from his mind, flushing the toilet. It was peculiar how all his troubles seemed not so overwhelming when surrounded by the cool tile and nausea. It was as if he was flushing Hermione down the toilet. Cedric. His parents. The Dursleys.

Harry stumbled towards the sinks, his vision blackening uncomfortably, knees buckling slightly. The water flowed loud in his ears as he turned on the tap. Harry splashed the water in his face, hoping it would startle him out of his daze. He blinked twice up at his reflection, noting his sunken cheeks and dark, tired eyes. This what the Boy-Who-Lived had fallen to. It looked as if someone had drawn circles under his eyes with charcoal and the colour in his face was non-existent, his features prominent on the pale mask.

This wasn't him. It was an empty shell, a vessel for his guilt and self-hate, merely a temporary replacement. Only temporary was becoming an awful long time and Harry wasn't sure he was ready to pretend everything was okay. All this time Harry had carried all his pain in a suffocating silence, only letting it escape when he cut into his arms.

Even now he wasn't sure anything could damper the fact that Hermione was gone. Just like everyone else had left him.

Harry scolded himself for letting himself blame others. He'd brought this upon himself. Killing Cedric, then Hermione. He coughed and his stomach tried to empty itself again. More bile.

He couldn't handle any of it. Not his guilt, not his depression, not the world looking down on him.

Harry flung his arm out in frustration, catching it on the edge of the sink. He hissed in pain and drew his wrist to him. Strangely comforting, the throb seemed to pass through his entire arm. Harry stared at his limb in fascination. He had wondered how Remus could find this satisfying, but he was getting an inkling.

He slammed his wrist down onto the edge of the sink. A moment of numb and then an onslaught of red hot pain. Merlin, it felt wonderful.

The next time it felt even better and Harry could almost feel a real smile coming. But it wasn't quite as good as it could be. So once more couldn't hurt.

As he grasped his arm to his chest half an hour later, Harry wondered if Remus knew how much he had helped. For a split second Harry considered letting him know but immediately shook it off as the stupid idea it was. Under his breath though, he thanked Remus almost prayerfully.

"Potter, you are to come out of there right now and eat." Snape. Not again.

Harry's stomach lurched spitefully. How he wished he never had to deal with the disgusting git again. After yesterday, something Harry remembered with a great deal of bitterness, Harry had decided that Snape was just as fake as every other nameless face who would look upon him and misunderstand. He recalled how, with such gullibility, he had believed Snape might be able to comprehend. Harry scowled at the mirror. That was as desperate as hoping the Dursleys might actually like him deep inside.

Harry decided his best option was to appease Snape as much as possible so he could get back to Hogwarts as soon as possible. He stared down at the red skin curiously once again before carefully pulling down his sleeve.

He slipped through the door and past Snape. "Don't touch me." He warned as he walked down the hall.

He only glanced up briefly but he could have sworn Snape looked apologetic. Just a bit. Well, he hoped the git was feeling guilty. He also hoped Snape would fall of the Astronomy Tower and die. Or maybe that was self-directed. Either way would work, Harry supposed. Either way, he would be happy.

Harry had not noticed before how cold and empty the dining room seemed. He had always been anxious when he had been in here previous times. Now, however, after his little relief session only minutes before, the storm inside had abated. Harry found it almost unfamiliar after so many days without. The thought almost made his entire form sag with the lack of tension.

As Harry speared his eggs, he felt victorious. Snape's steady gaze did not once dint his glorious calm.

(q-q)

Harry's mood dimmed throughout the day, however. He spent his morning finishing his homework, surprisingly quick without the distraction of Ron or the restrictions of the Dursleys. The remainder of his day was passed in his room, in a deeply gloomy mood with stormy fronts looming in his mind. He could not banish the memory of yesterday. Snape had never been as intimidating as he had been in that moment. Harry recalled how his whole body froze as the professor lifted his hand swiftly. He felt as if he had been hit by a curse and time had frozen, a thousandth of a moment cut out of time. And hitting the ground. It probably hurt physically more than the blow Snape had dealt. But somehow...

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. How he wanted to pretend it had never happened. How he wanted it to all go back to the way it was. When he had a knife to his wrist and didn't feel a bloody weight pressing down on his chest. The weight of anger, expectations, and depression. And perhaps, just maybe, press a little harder, a bit more vicious. Then it could end.

"Potter, get out here at once."

"Go away!" Harry shouted back, lying back on the bed.

"You have been sulking in there all day, god forbid you get some fresh air!" Snape snapped.

(q-q)

Severus cradles his head in his hands. The darkness of his study offered a reprieve to his impending migraine. Potter was too much. Too lost, too small, too frightened. He was like a large dose of the Draught of Living Death and with every swallow of Potter's depression, his caustic self-destruction, Severus felt more like he could not fix this particular puzzle.

Severus had never been a gentle, kind man, but it seemed kind men were doing Potter no good. Kind men would send the stupid boy to his grave. The problem, Snape had supposed, was that no one had ever had the strong-will and countenance to actually talk to Potter the way he needed to be spoken to. However, he had been wrong on that aspect of things. He had not accounted into the equation Vernon Dursley. That pathetic excuse for a human being.

Severus gave a long deep sigh and lifted his head. The world would not slow down for him to catch his breath and Potter would certainly not cease his behaviours long enough for Snape to have a break in his incessant worrying. The relationship between Professor and student was not ideal and his own break-down yesterday had not helped matters in the least.

He leaned back in his chair, eyes steady on the shelves in front. Snape had never viewed himself as one who could hit a child. Not a boy of fifteen who probably weighed less than a hundred and ten pounds and was a good foot shorter than him. Well, it would never happen again, not in the worst of tempers or with the most provocative of children. Even Potter, he vowed.

Severus stood up abruptly.

The hallways of his own house seemed to intimidate him as he travelled to Potter's room. That would not do. He stood a little straighter, glared just a little harder and rapped on the oak of Potter's door.

"Potter, get out here at once."

There was an tense silence in which Snape came very close to knocking the door down and dragging the boy out.

"Go away!" Came the muffled cry. Snape's face tightened.

"You have been sulking in there all day, god forbid you get some fresh air!" He yelled through the door. "I'm not going to stand out here, either you come out or I will come in."

Another long silence. Snape decided he was not going to play Potter's waiting game. This was the moment of truth.

He turned the handle and was relieved to find Harry had not blocked the door. The boy sat on the bed, his right hand gripping the edge so hard his knuckles had turned white.

Severus stood there, slightly in the room, out of the doorway. He stared down at Potter, who didn't look scared, but very much like a ghost, his entire form seeming to curl up on itself and his eyes tired.

Harry gazed up at him in return, those eyes almost penetrating with their emptiness and a lost feeling that Snape could not describe.

(q-q)

Snape stood there and Harry didn't know whether he was going to strike him again. But he didn't seem angry. He didn't even look frustrated. He just stood there and Harry wasn't sure what to think. It was strange but Harry had never felt more vulnerable in front of Snape, not after cutting, not after Hermione, not after anything. And maybe it was because Snape had interrupted him in the middle of a dark moment, or perhaps it was yesterday, but it was humbling and it was frightening.

Professor Snape had hated Harry since he'd come here, small and in awe of Hogwarts. Lately, though, there was a look in his eyes whenever Harry caught him unawares. He didn't think it was love, no, not even caring. But maybe custodial.

And that might have been what made him open his mouth.

(q-q)

Severus waited. He had come in here with something to say, he was sure of it, but right at that moment he knew it was pointless. So he waited.

"I want it to end." Harry finally whispered. With those empty eyes trained on him, Snape did not need legilimency to know that Potter spoke very frankly.

With that he sat down, near to Harry on the bed, and met his eyes. "I know you wish you did not feel this way, I know you don't understand why. I do need you to understand that these feelings will go away, maybe not today, or tomorrow, but they will fade with time. What you feel now will one day be behind you. For that to happen, you need to live. I cannot offer you a miracle cure, I cannot even offer you answers, but I am here and I will be here for a long time."

Harry's gaze never once left his. There was something there now, replacing the emptiness, and it didn't signal the end of the boy's problems, but it did signify the beginnings of something new.

(q-q)

End of chapter 21.

Thank you God, I got a chapter done. Now, I do admit this sounds like the end, but it is not. It is however, the end of this chapter of Harry's problems. Think of it as the end of part 1. There will be a time jump by the beginning of the next chapter, where Harry will return to Hogwarts after staying with Snape. I just needed this story to start going somewhere and I've finally got to a point where I can do that (hopefully without destroying any of the characters in this chapter).

One very big thanks to a reviewer who emailed me today and made me smile. More importantly, she made me write this chapter. So thank you Elle.

I don't promise I'll from now on be a quick updater (-everyone have a quick laugh-) but I will try. As a note (and READ THIS) I may end this soon and start a sequel - so keep an eye out for that. If I do I'll probably put up an epilogue for this so that'll be some warning.

Review and let me know what you think.


	22. Part 2: Chapter 1

A/N: Not really checked but I wanted to give you guys something. I wasn't sure whether to put this as a new story or what but think of this as "Book 2". Things have changed since Harry left, understandably. If you don't get why something is happening, that will be why (unless I have some giant plot hole, which you'll have to forgive because this is just fanfiction). Anyway, sorry for not updating, my life is really hectic at the moment. This "book 2" probably wont be very long but I can't say how many chapters yet.

**Approx. 6 months later (the beginning of 6th Year)**

Harry forced a smile as Ron stood at the doors of Hogwarts, staring at him uncertainly. The red-head looked different. More contained, more reserved. Harry supposed the changes had begun after Hermione had died but he'd been too lost in himself to notice. Now that most of the grief had been washed from Ron's face he looked more mature. Harry met this with a bit of pride and a lot of pain over lost innocence.

"Hey mate." Ron greeted him, with all the warmth and none of the rowdiness characteristic of the Weasleys.

"Hey Ron." He turned with his friend and entered Hogwarts for the first time in months. Sixth year had begun four days ago but he'd begged Snape for a reprieve. As much as he considered Hogwarts home, he'd desperately pleaded with Severus for just a little while longer at the manor. Snape had even allowed Sirius to visit during the holidays (not that Sirius would have let him say no), which his godfather did, at least two times a week. But Sirius didn't understand when Harry had bad times. When he could rage and be in the darkest pits of despair for days at a time. His godfather put up with it (Harry wondered if he'd had practice with Professor Lupin) but he didn't understand. Severus just seemed to click and Harry didn't know how but he did.

"How have you been doing?" Ron asked, leading Harry in the direction of the Great Hall. It was an unhidden poke at his mental state, Harry knew, but he certainly couldn't condemn Ron for it.

"I'm feeling better," Was all he said, he was on an unsteady road towards normality. Severus said he was doing well, but Harry sometimes doubted that greatly.

"Well, it's almost time for dinner, so here we are," Ron announced at the doors. "Thanks for getting me out of Potions by the way. The new teacher's been a complete dragon, I'm almost grateful for having Snape back." He joked lightly.

Harry smiled to himself. He never would've believed any Hogwarts student could feel that way.

"Her name's Umbridge. She's the new DADA teacher but she's been teaching Potions since Snape left with you last year," Ron continued as they sat at the empty Gryffindor table.

Harry took a covert glance up to the teachers table. It was empty just like the rest of the hall. Snape had left him at the gate saying that perhaps he had to face this alone and that he had to run an errand anyway. Harry had accepted the excuse with a barely visible wince. He was sure Severus had noticed but had thankfully said nothing.

The chatter of students entering the hall filled Harry's ears; classes had obviously been let out. Silence soon followed as the students saw him, however, and there was a long pause in the loud conversation (the kind of ruckus that only came after the vacation). The quiet was followed by a maelstrom of whispers. Harry closed his eyes tightly and counted to five before opening them. Ron just sat next to him, waiting. The hall filled slowly, students and teachers, familiar faces. Ron pointed out Umbridge at the high table. She seemed to have a continual frown on her face.

Harry finally caught sight of Severus, seated between Professor McGonagall and Hagrid. The professor nodded in greeting and Harry grinned somewhat self-consciously before turning back to his food.

Someone sat down by his right rather quickly. "Long time, no see," said a familiar voice.

"Hi, Seamus." Harry had missed Seamus; he'd wanted to owl him but had no idea what to say. 'Hey, sorry I tried to hurt myself but I'm a little less crazy now'? Because really, he wanted to hurt himself no less but now he had different outlets.

"How are you?" Harry had the feeling this question would come his way a lot from now on. All variations of 'how are your suicidal urges?'

"Fine Seamus, how are you going? Got laid yet?" Hopefully that would waylay any awkward questions. At least until after the meal anyway.

"Nah, chaste as a bloody monk, dry as a river in Africa, there's a drought going on Harry." Seamus gravely proclaimed.

Harry just shook his head. There was one thing that wasn't going to change. Seamus' sense of humour. That was a relief.

"Ron, I need to talk to you." Harry was distracted from his conversation by Malfoy's voice. He watched, stunned, as Ron nodded and stood up.

"I'll be back in a while Harry." The red-head told him before leaving the hall. No one gave it a second glance. Except Harry.

"He didn't tell you?" Seamus asked. "It surprised most of us. Ron was pretty down after… you know… Hermione… well, he was pretty depressed. And then you did… and he just sort of let go. He didn't come out of the dorm, stopped eating, and stopped speaking for a while. Dumbledore and McGonagall were crazy with worry and they had to send him home for a few weeks." Harry listened with a numb kind of shock. "Ron came back though, around the middle of May. He came to every meal, every class, even did all his homework. His grades were going up but he had to stay after class more than ever before. All the teachers were kind of put off kilter and we were a bit on edge, you know? After… well, you… we were prepared for anything."

"He never told me anything." Harry whispered.

"How often did he write?" Seamus looked a bit self-conscious now, like he had thought better about telling Harry about any of this.

"Twice, maybe three times a month. I thought he was just busy, maybe still upset about Hermione. He never said anything."

"Yeah, well, after a while we started noticing that he was always gone, never in the Common Room. Then, in June, Neville saw him in the Library. Malfoy was sitting opposite him at a table and they were both studying. No insults. No dirty looks. No nothing. We asked Ron about it. He just said they'd found common ground."

Harry just sat there, unsure what to think. Had Ron found a new best friend? Had he decided Harry was too much trouble? Too much of a freak? Harry let these thoughts rush through his head. And what was Malfoy after? _Think of other things, I can't deal with this right now, think of other things._

"Why isn't Remus DADA professor?" Harry suddenly blurted out.

Seamus looked at him incredulously. He dropped it though, Harry noted, relieved. "Haven't you heard about the new laws?"

"What laws?"

"New werewolf legislation doesn't permit werewolves to be employed in areas that involve children, positions of authority or politics, and law enforcement. All the rights activists are going nuts." Seamus made a face before grabbing a paper off Dean. He flipped through it a few times before handing it to Harry. "See."

'**WEREWOLF LAWS HAVE POLICITICANS IN TIGHT POSITION'**, the headline glared. Harry read the article with growing disgust.

"How can they do this?" Harry asked, dismayed.

Seamus shrugged. "They're calling it a demon hunt. I guess people are afraid."

No wonder Severus hadn't let him read the paper lately. As he kept reading through the pages there were growing numbers of deaths. Most were disappearances. A lot of werewolf attacks, random giant attacks, sightings of the dark mark. It all reeked of Voldemort. Harry almost choked up everything he'd just eaten.

It seemed Seamus had seen the expression on his face because he grabbed the Daily Prophet with a nervous chuckle. "But that's not important right now; you've got to catch up with everyone. Ginny!" He called down the table. "Come over here."

Ginny glanced down the table, her face lighting up. "Hey Harry, Seamus."

"Tell Harry about your good news." Harry looked up curiously, momentarily distracted from his horror.

"Dean and I have been going out for four months now." She beamed. Harry stared at her for a second before smiling uncertainly, risking a sideways glance towards Seamus.

"That's great, Ginny. What does Ron think of that?"

Her grin faltered. "He hasn't said much," she murmured. "But I think he's okay with it."

Harry realised that was definitely the wrong thing to say. Doubt rushed through his veins. He didn't think he was ready for Hogwarts at all.

"Sorry," He muttered, embarrassed.

"No, that's okay." She frowned. "I've missed you Harry, don't be a stranger." With that she left to finish her dinner.

/&/

After dinner Harry met back up with Ron in the Common Room. He didn't ask about Draco and Ron didn't say anything. As he sat in the warm and chattering Common Room he felt immensely uncomfortable and alone. Ron was playing a game of wizarding chess with Dean, who was losing spectacularly. Seamus had disappeared off to Merlin knew where until midnight and had asked the other boys to cover for him. Harry sat in front of the fireplace wondering if he could make it to the Astronomy tower in time. He knew he'd promised Sirius but it all seemed too hard. It was so much easier when he was at -

The Common Room fell into an unnatural silence.

"Mr. Potter, I need to speak with you." Snape's voice almost echoed in the seemingly frozen room.

Harry's jaw finally managed to right itself and he stood up without a word and followed the professor out the entrance. Thirty eyes were fixed on him on the short journey to the Fat Lady's portrait.

In the hall Harry shifted nervously under Severus' penetrating stare. He didn't really know what the professor wanted so he kept his mouth shut.

The sudden and firm grip on his arm quickly explained what Snape was after. Harry's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You think I've done it again, don't you? Already!" He jerked his arm away angrily.

Snape grabbed it back and pulled the sleeve back to reveal… nothing. Just the old scars Harry half-feared, half-treasured.

To be honest, the older man did have the decency to look ashamed. He dropped the arm slowly and bent to look Harry in the eye. "I apologise, I was mistaken."

Harry was about to storm away in a temper before he evened his anger just a little, knowing it always helped to calm down. "Yeah, you were! What made you think I would…?" He trailed off nervously.

There was a pause in which Harry wondered if Snape was going to leave the inquiry unanswered.

"Your face- I presumed because you appeared… down-trodden…" The uncertainty in Snape's voice made Harry wonder if that was only half the reason. He let it go though; trying to get information out of the professor was like trying to get blood out of a stone.

"Oh. Well, I did think about it." Harry admitted. "But only a little and I didn't do anything! Besides," He added, "there's nothing sharp in the dorms, I checked." At the look on Snape's face, he thought perhaps he shouldn't have said anything.

"That was done under my explicit instruction." Snape replied with a barely visible smirk.

"I thought so," Harry sighed. "Anyway, if I'm out here too long with you Ron might think we've killed each other."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Indeed."

/&/

Harry sat on the edge of his bed. Seamus' snoring was loud and obnoxious. Neville whistled in his sleep. Dean slept like a log. Ron, however, was absent again and Harry was worried. Suddenly Harry realised that his friend was probably with Malfoy. The thought was not comforting and he wished he could sleep and forget about all this.

He settled down, head resting on the bright red pillow. He stared at Ron's bed like it would make the boy would appear in it any second. What were they doing? Why were they friends? Had Ron found someone more stable, more reliable, to confide in? A horrifying jumble of questions plagued Harry.

It overwhelmed him until all he could think of was how terribly alone he was. And how ridiculously pathetic that was. He wanted to hurt himself now more than ever. He squeezed his arm tight, digging his nails in as far as possible.

That was when he heard the door creak open and someone whisper. "Is he awake?"

Harry froze. That wasn't Ron's voice.

"I don't know." He relaxed. That was Ron.

"Potter?"

Harry turned over and peeked out between his curtains once again.

His jaw dropped when he saw a flash of blond hair in the moonlight. "Malfoy?"


	23. Part 2: Chapter 2

A/N: Please drop me a line to tell me what you think, it's good motivation.

**Part 2: Chapter 2**

Harry woke slowly, exhausted from the night before. With a hint of annoyance he heard the shower running and knew the bathroom was occupied. Dean, probably. An early bird. He glanced over at Ron's bed, through the gap in his curtains. The redhead was dead to the world, sprawled facedown on his bed, limbs awkwardly hanging over the edge of the bed.

The night before had been uncomfortable. Being with Ron and Malfoy when his friend seemed so natural around his erstwhile rival… it was disconcerting… It was their fault he was so tired now. The ambush in the middle of the night really hadn't helped him sleep. The information that came with the ambush, well, that was a whole other story. He remembered the conversation well.

"_Can't you be quiet for two seconds?" Ron hissed at the Slytherin. "You're going to wake everyone up!"  
_

"_Oh shut up, this was your idea anyway, idiot." Draco hissed back._

_  
Harry just gaped at them both. _

"_Let's just go downstairs," Ron seemed to give up. "We'll explain everything down there." _

_Harry pulled himself out of bed reluctantly. This was strange and Harry didn't like the way the two were acting._

_The trip down to the Common Room, short though it may have been, was wrought with whispered bickering between Ron and Malfoy. Perhaps most disturbingly, there was no vehemence or malice in the insults. Not like there used to be._

_Harry settled in one of the couches, watching warily as the two other boys sat opposite. "Now are you going to tell me what's going on?" He snapped, tired and confused. _

_  
"Well," Ron wringed his hands and Harry was suddenly concerned. "The thing is -"_

"_We think Granger is still alive." Malfoy cut him off abruptly._

_  
Ron glared angrily at him. "I was going to tell him, you git, we were meant to break it to him softly."_

_  
"You were never going to break it to him at all, stuttering like Longbottom."_

"_At least I'm not a tactless-"_

_  
"Shut up." Harry shouted. Both Malfoy and Ron flinched, quickly checking the stairs for noise of anyone waking. "What are you talking about? Hermione died," His voice cracked embarrassingly. "Everyone knows that."_

_They both stared at him oddly, neither making a sound. Harry looked away, frustrated. "Look, either tell me what you think is going on, or I'll get a professor and you can explain it to them."_

_They exchanged a look that Harry could neither interpret nor stand. He stood. "Fine."  
_

"_We have reason to believe that Hermione Granger is alive, including testament from Voldemort's Death Eaters." Malfoy blurted out, finishing in a smug tone that let Harry know that Malfoy was still the same old smarmy bastard he was before Harry had left. It was strangely comforting._

"_And we thought you should know." Ron finished, eyes firmly on the ground.  
_

_Harry just stared for a while before lowering himself carefully back onto the couch. Hermione couldn't be alive. Not after he'd spent so long mourning her and beating himself up over her death. But if she was… wasn't it too good to be true? Harry's questions swirled in his head dizzyingly. He closed his eyes tightly, fighting the burning feeling behind his eyelids. Could Hermione be alive? Did things this good really happen to him? And if Hermione had been alive all this time, what could Voldemort have done to her? How she must've suffered, Harry thought, anguished by images of his nightmares. If they had been visions all along, her torment was his fault and his fault alone. He had not done anything, instead choosing to bury them. The nightmares he had suffered almost daily were recordings of her treatment. Harry squeezed his eyes shut tighter._

_  
"Harry?" Ron's trepid tones pulled him harshly from his distress. His friend looked concerned and Harry almost choked on his morbid realisation of why he appeared that way. Probably thought he was going to bounce off to top himself. A slash here and there, Harry thought, that's what Ron thought he was going to do. Bleed out. Harry bit off that line of thought viciously. He wouldn't return to that, not after all the progress he'd made with Severus._

"_I knew she was suffering," He murmured. "I knew he was hurting her and I did nothing. All I could focus on was my own hurt, my own pain. So selfish." He spat out the last word, feeling more bitter than he had in months. "I knew, but the question is," He looked up, eyes bright. "How did you?"_

_Even Malfoy looked worried about him now, Harry thought he must have looked a bit mad. It was the Slytherin who started to explain, bolder now than Ron, who just looked anxious and sick. "I was home at the manor in the holidays in both April and the summer. Ron and I were friends of a sort before the summer." They both exchanged that look again, the indescribable one. A horrifying thought entered Harry's mind. Were they going out? "In the previous holiday, if you remember it was only a few days after Hermione was captured, I overheard a conversation between my father and Theodore Nott's father. They were discussing the Dark Lord's plans to… reveal… Granger in the Great Hall. Lucius asked Nott if he had the charms prepared for the body. I'd presumed he meant charms to prevent decomposition or any kind of restoration for that matter." _

_Malfoy paused here and Harry's pulse was beating impatiently. "But?"_

"_But I didn't find out until the summer after, when Lucius tried to take me to a Death Eaters' meeting, that they meant illusion charms. I didn't want to go to the meeting, I've seen what they do and I do not want to become involved, but I didn't dare argue. I was stunned by the sheer numbers he'd accumulated, over a hundred Death Eaters gathered. The meeting was mostly garbage, disgusting garbage, but nothing relevant to a wider audience. The Dark Lord just ranted and raved and tortured a few younger Death Eaters. But at the end, before we went home, Lucius wanted to go to the dungeons of the Dark Lord's manor. He met up with two others and once again I overheard them talking. The shorter one said something about a mudblood, I didn't think much of it until your name came up. 'Potter's little mudblood friend,' one of them said. I knew immediately that it was Granger. They left me upstairs and went down. I had no idea what to do."_

"_He owled me the next day." Ron added quietly._

From there, Harry was pretty much incoherent. Malfoy had left and Ron had led him up to bed, clearly worried about him. The redhead made Harry promise several times that he wouldn't do anything stupid before closing his curtains, leaving a gap that Harry would later realise was big enough for the other boy to check on him.

Ron snored particularly loudly and seemed to wake himself up. The other boy groaned and sat up.

"Oh," He noticed Harry's stare. "Morning, Harry."

Harry knew it was a terribly inappropriate time and something he shouldn't have been focusing on after last night but he knew he had to ask. "Ron, are you and Draco… you know?"

Ron stared at him blankly for a moment before connecting. His face screwed up in an expression that could only be labelled as disgust. "Oh Merlin, no! No! Never! Yuck! No! Did you really think that-? No, don't answer that. Merlin." He finished, breathless.

"I'll take that as a no, then," Harry said cautiously. Well, that settled that. "Have you told anyone else about Hermione?" Harry asked, moving on to the next pressing issue.

"No, well, yes. You see, that's the reason we woke you up so late. We've told people, but no one seems to believe us. McGonagall looked at me like I was nuts, I guess after I'd been acting… odd… she just thought I was imagining Hermione was back." Ron looked resigned.

"Dumbledore?"

"No, McGonagall told us we weren't to bother him with it, he was already feeling awful about Hermione's death as it was. Stupid bitch." Ron added heatedly.

"I think you should tell him."

"We were going to, we'd decided to tell him in the weekend just passed. But then it happened." Ron's face had fallen. "The new rules."

"What?"

"Didn't I tell you?" Ron asked incredulously. "Umbridge isn't only the new DADA professor, she's the 'Senior Undersecretary' to Fudge. In other words, his loyal little spy. And she's not clean, not even slightly. She's been screening mail, enforcing early curfew, you practically have to have supervision to piss. It's hers and Fudge's version of a 'reform.' We couldn't get anywhere near Dumbledore after that. Fudge wanted to force her into the position last year but Professor Lupin was still in so he settled for her relieving for Snape being gone. Then the demon hunt started and the werewolf laws got pushed through. Lupin had to leave about a month before the end of the school year. Then Umbridge took over his lessons. Fudge made her 'High Inquisitor', whatever that means, she's made a whole load of 'Educational Decrees.' It's a nightmare. Trust me, there is no way to contact Dumbledore. There's a rumour going around that she's trying to get him kicked out."

Harry gaped at him. Things really had gone to hell while he was absent.

"Um, Harry, you never did tell Draco and I how you knew about Hermione."

"Nightmares, Ron," Harry said tiredly. "Just nightmares. I thought they were run-of-the-mill but I was wrong."

Ron sensed he didn't want to talk about it and changed the subject hurriedly. "We'd better get to breakfast, otherwise we'll be late Transfiguration, McGonagall will take points, it'd be my third time this week. Wait, are you going to be okay with sixth year work? You missed a lot of last year."

"Snape tutored me. I took my O.W.L.s independently." Harry heard the bathroom door open. "I'm going to have a shower." He left before any more terrible revelations could take place. He didn't know what he was thinking coming back here, but this was an unmitigated disaster. He couldn't deal with this.

(-)

Harry emerged from the bathroom feeling slightly better but the sinking feeling in his stomach remained. It remained through breakfast, which included fleeting glances over to Malfoy, worried sideways looks up at the High Table to check on Umbridge and Severus. Severus seemed to dislike the woman almost as much as Ron. He sneered in her direction whenever she opened her mouth and Harry had seen the man cut her down a few times when she spoke. He inwardly cheered for Professor Snape.

A peek at Dumbledore revealed more than Harry wanted to know. The man looked old. Older than Harry had thought the Headmaster should. The twinkle in his eyes was suspiciously absent, Harry swore the man had more wrinkles, he even had bags under his eyes. He looked every bit an elderly man and this terrified the young Gryffindor. Dumbledore looked in his general direction but pointedly did not make eye contact. Immediately this set off alarms in Harry's mind.

About a month into his stay with Professor Snape, the man had pointed him in a direction he hadn't thought he could follow, but the man had been patient and even, dare he say it, kind. The professor he had once thought couldn't teach at all had trained him and tutored him his entire stay. He admitted that this was probably due to a few nudges from Dumbledore, but he couldn't fault the man on that. Harry had finally discovered what Occlumency was. One question and Snape had looked at him like he was an alien for about five seconds before launching into in-depth detail on Mind Magic and then throwing about five huge texts at him. Boy, had he regretting saying anything. Harry had then spent the next five months mastering Occlumency and, after some time and great consternation on Snape's part, Legilimency. It was long and it was gruelling and that particular area of his training was the reason for his internal alarms going off right at that very moment.

Dumbledore was afraid Harry would get into his mind! But why? Was it just because he didn't want Harry to be nosy or was there something deeper, more sinister? Harry bit his lip anxiously and promised himself that he would go see Severus tonight and ask him about it. He had bad feelings about this, really bad feelings.

"-listening to me?"

Harry shook himself. "Pardon?"

Ron sighed. "I asked if you were listening to me but I guess it's kind of pointless now. I know you have a lot on your mind, Harry, but can I have your attention for one second?"

Harry instantly felt guilty. "Sorry, Ron, what was it?"

"We have Transfiguration first, so we should go up to the dorms to get our things. And I've seen your schedule, you've dropped Divination and picked up Ancient Runes? Since when do you do Ancient Runes?" Ron sounded a little flummoxed. Harry supposed it was because he and Ron had always taken the same classes, always had the same schedule, now that was changing.

"Professor Snape began to teach me it. I like it." Harry admitted sheepishly.

Ron's nose scrunched up and Harry knew he was about to be questioned. "And what's up with the whole 'Professor Snape' thing? You sound like an ickle first-year."

"I don't know, I guess I just respect him now." Harry didn't dare mention that a lot of the time he called the man 'Severus' now.

Ron shook his head disbelievingly. "Respect." He said in wonder. "You respect Snape."

Harry laughed. Sometimes it seemed as if Ron hadn't changed one bit. "Come on, you said it yourself, we're going to be late for class!" He dragged Ron out of the Hall, the other boy still muttering to himself about 'that greasy git.'

(-)

Draco was having a hard day. A hard week. A hard year, he concluded. Nothing had gone to plan, in fact, things had gone consistently and reliably wrong. And to think it had all snowballed from a blowjob, Draco wondered. He thought he'd never work up the nerve to get another one after this farce of a year. Definitely not from Finch-Fletchley. Bad omens there.

"I think I'll skip dinner." He finally said aloud. Blaise looked up.

"Do you want me to bring anything down?"

"No." Draco decided. "I'm really not hungry."

And he wasn't. His appetite was pretty much non-existent lately. "I think I'll just stay in here."

He could almost feel Blaise's stare through the back of his head. "You've been up here alone a lot lately. Either that, or out with Weasley and I don't know which is worse. Pansy and I are beginning to worry about you."

"Blaise, mind your own business and you can tell Parkinson that too."

"Leave Pansy out of this." Blaise was always defending Pansy, just like Weasley always defended Potter. Draco tried fruitlessly to ignore the fact that no one defended him.

"Just piss off." Draco managed to say through tightly gritted teeth. The quiet click of the door closing let Draco know he was alone.

He'd received a letter from his father regarding his initiation just this morning. He hadn't told anyone, not Blaise, not Pansy, and certainly not Weasley, despite their recent closeness, if one could call it that. Draco was fairly sure that after he refused the mark, something he had made a decision about long ago, he would most likely be disowned. He hoped his father wasn't mad enough to kill him, come to think of it. The thought made the hairs on his neck stand on end.

He'd been anticipating losing his inheritance ever since the older boys had starting beating on him because of him being gay. At least refusing the mark would leave him with his dignity. His father finding out he was queer, well, Draco could wave goodbye to any form of self-respect.

He heard the door open behind him and he growled. "For Merlin's sake, Blaise, I told you to piss off!"

"Seeing as I am not Mr. Zabini, I will disregard that comment."

Draco almost fell off the bed. "Professor Snape! Sorry, I was just…" He trailed off there, unsure of how to excuse that.

"Apology accepted, Mr. Malfoy."

"Blaise sent you here, didn't he?" Draco resigned himself to his friend's manic anxiety.

"He did, but I had suspected a visit was on the horizons." Snape, the omniscient Slytherin Head of House. He didn't know everything though, Draco scowled.

"I sent you a letter months ago."

He could sense the professor's surprise. "I did not receive such a letter."

"I could tell Father wanted me to do something I didn't want to do, so I sent you a letter. For days I hated you because there was no reply. I thought I'd made a mistake. Then I found out you never got it."

Professor Snape didn't say anything and the silence stretched longer. Draco wondered if he'd rendered the stoic man speechless. "Did you know I broke my arm a few days ago, on the first day of school?"

"No, I was unaware, Madam Pomfrey should have reported it to me as your Head of House."

"I didn't go to Madam Pomfrey. Pansy healed it."

Draco looked up at the professor and could see his surprise. "You are aware how dangerous it is for another student to heal a broken bone?"

He nodded. "It is also against the school rules, I believe."

Draco nodded again. "Would I be correct in assuming you are being bullied?"

This time Draco didn't nod, he just stared. If he didn't admit it, would Snape still know?

"Who?" Snape growled at him with a surprising amount of vehemence. "Are they in Slytherin?"

"You can't do anything about it, you know."

"Not if you don't tell me." Draco thought it was rather unsolvable. While they still had the information they did, Draco couldn't tell anyone, therefore couldn't feel safe. But if he told someone and felt safe from them, then he certainly had reason to fear his father. The consequences either way made him wince. Could he let Higgs and his new buddies keep doing this to him? He'd been naïve when he'd thought that if Pucey and Warrington graduated, Higgs would stop. Instead, the now seventh year found other Slytherins to help torment Draco. From the broken arm, a painful and humiliating incident, it was safe to assume it would only escalate.

"You weren't there. You say you're our Head of House, but you weren't there. Instead, you leave baby-sit Potter for months, a Gryffindor! So, trust me, you can't help." Draco glared at Snape, giving it his best. That letter was a mistake that cost him quite a bit, that, combined with Snape's frustrating inability to see what was going on made the Professor seem less and less dependable. When Draco was young, even before he started at Hogwarts, he'd thought Professor Snape could do anything. He'd idolised him, more than his father, more than Switzerland's Seeker. Now Draco knew he couldn't trust anyone any more, not if he wanted to survive.

A swift breath sounded in the room and for a split second, Draco was sure Snape was going to scream at him. Instead, the man stood.

"I am sorry I have led you to distrust me, my office is open any time you wish to talk." And he left. Finally.

Draco buried his head in his hands. He wished someone could tell him how to get out of this mess.


	24. Part 2: Chapter 3

Part 2: Chapter 3

It was about an hour before curfew on Thursday night that Harry stumbled across the startling sight of Draco Malfoy being beaten to a pulp. He ducked behind a suit of armour before he was seen and took several calming breaths. So these were the people beating Malfoy up last year? And they were still doing it?

Harry took another peek and saw Malfoy being kicked, for what looked like the hundredth time, in the ribs. He winced in sympathy, God knew he'd been in that very position too many times, and decided he had to do something, he couldn't just let Malfoy get beaten up.

"Oi!" He stepped out, wand in hand. "Leave him alone."

The blond boy looked up at him from the floor, eyes barely focussed, Harry could tell. His hair was flecked with blood, looking as if it was rusted.

All four boys also looked at him. Only they were much taller and it was more looking _down_ on him than anything. But at least he'd gotten their attention.

"It's against the rules to beat on another student, you know. Filch is just around this corner and since you don't have one of these," Harry held up his invisibility cloak. "I'd say you'd want to run right about now."

They all glared at him suspiciously. Harry glanced over his shoulder melodramatically. "I can hear his grumbling now. I'm off fellas, I hear Filch has permission from Umbridge to use the whip," He said lightly. "Wouldn't want to stick around here for that." He threw the cloak over his shoulders. All of them were running before he'd finished speaking, leaving the smaller boy trying to get up without results.

Harry whisked the cloak off again. "Bloody hell, Malfoy, look at you." On second thought, it might not have been a good idea for the Slytherin to look in the mirror, considering how vain he was. His nose was practically gushing blood and his lip was swollen and red. The bruises that had already surfaced and bruises that looked older were bright and inflamed on the boy's pale skin. Harry winced at the sight.

"It looks worse than it feels." The other boy tried to play it off, obviously trying to regain some lost dignity.

"It looks awful." Harry muttered, prodding Malfoy's ribs, feeling for a break.

"That'd be about right then," Malfoy quipped, gasping as Harry hit a sore spot. "Stop jabbing me, I'll be fine. Well, I would be, if you'd stop making it bloody worse."

"I think you need to see Pomfrey, your ribs could be broken." Harry protested.

"Can't. I'll get Pansy to fix it."

"You're serious? Are you trying to hide this or something? Why are they even doing this to you? I thought you were a prefect." He helped Malfoy up, watching the boy gasp and splutter as he jolted his injuries. The Slytherin brushed him off as soon as he was solid on his feet, obviously far too proud to accept any further aid.

"Doesn't mean much when you're also a traitor and a poof." Malfoy confessed, not looking Harry in the eye but rather glaring at the wall behind his head.

"You're- er, really? How'd they know that?" Harry wondered aloud.

Malfoy just glared at him. "How do you think? They walked in on… you know…" He made an obscene gesture and Harry choked, his face heating up in embarrassment.

"Oh. _Oh._ Who with? No, never mind, I don't want to know."

"Yeah, well, you'd be surprised, there seems to be a shortage of gays in Hogwarts." The bitter tones came through in the other boy's voice and Harry wondered if _the_ Draco Malfoy was lonely. He could relate, Harry thought, he felt pretty isolated most of the time too. Seamus' face popped into Harry's mind suddenly.

"How do you know? Is there someone you, er, fancy?" Harry blurted out, hoping he wasn't making a fool of himself… or that Malfoy thought he was gay and coming on to him…

Malfoy glared at him again, brushing himself off gingerly, and wincing as he leant against the wall, more for support than a pose, Harry could tell. "It's really none of your business, Potter."

"No really, maybe I can help."

"Help with what, getting laid?" Malfoy scoffed. "I'll have you know that you don't know my type."

Harry took a deep breath and told himself he was doing a favour for a friend in need. Harry supposed Malfoy was a friend now too. "I know someone who thinks you're _his_ type."

(-)

"Are you serious?" Seamus gaped at him, eyes wide. "You hate Malfoy. Yeah, Ron is buddies with him now, but he doesn't even know I'm bent. You're shitting me, right?" He asked.

If Harry had known three hours ago how hard this would be he wouldn't have bothered. "Do you want to shag him or not?" He snapped. "I thought I was doing you a favour. Last year you said you liked him, today I found out he was gay. I guess if you're over him, I'll tell Malfoy it's off."

"No, don't. No. Definitely not. I still like him. I think I've just gotten used to… liking him from afar…" Seamus sounded a bit like a fish out of water.

Harry stared the Irish boy, confused. Seamus was fidgeting, picking at a thread of the bed curtains. He was also biting his lip, Harry realised. "Why are you so nervous?"

He was going to take the question back when he saw how much Seamus' discomfort seemed to increase but he was interrupted. "You know how I fancied Dean last year?"

Harry nodded. "I didn't really do anything with anyone else because of it."

"Anything as in?" He asked, even more confused.

Seamus glared at him fiercely and Harry was taken aback. That was the second glower he'd been faced with that day. It was beginning to make him feel ganged up on. This was what he got for trying to help people.

"You know… don't make me say it, all right!"

Harry put his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay, I get it now. So, you're a virgin, big deal!"

"Did you have to say that so loud?" Seamus hissed at him.

Harry rolled his eyes. "We're alone in here, everyone else is downstairs or out dodging Umbridge, you've got nothing to worry about. It's not that important anyway, I'm still a virgin."

"Yeah, but you're Harry, that's different."

Harry frowned indignantly. "How's that different?"

"Trust me, it's different." Seamus assured him.

Harry spent the rest of the night pondering over why it was different. So much so that he could hardly sleep. Was it because he was… what was the term Severus used? Emotionally stunted? Harry hated the words, told the professor it made him sound like a freak, to which the professor had responded with a fierce scolding over calling himself that - self-worth issues, he'd said. Snape had changed immensely over the past six months, as had the dynamics of their relationship. The man had become more patient and, shockingly, more friendly.

It had surprised, even scared, Harry at first, but after getting used to it, he wasn't sure he could deal with things going back to the way they were. His first potions class last week had been awkward. He had become used to dealing with Severus on a one-on-one basis and he could tell the man felt the same way. The result was being virtually invisible during class except when the professor had to check potions. He never asked Harry a question and Harry never put his hand up (not that he had in previous years). It seemed to be a working system so far.

His visits with the man had been cut off though, due to Umbridge's new rules. This meant that if they were to communicate Professor Snape had to ask Harry to stay after class. It was disconcerting to be so far removed from the man after having lived in his house for over six months. Harry could tell that worried Severus, he was afraid Harry would feel abandoned or something. But Harry knew it wasn't the professor's fault. Besides, he'd spent most of his life alone, he could handle a school term.

He rolled over, trying to get away from the snoring coming from across the room. He wondered if they were all still virgins. If Seamus hadn't had sex, what were the chances Neville had? Slim to none, Harry decided. What about Dean? Or Ron? Harry winced. What if Ron had gone and shagged someone and not told him? He pushed the thought to the back of his mind, too tired to agonise over it for hours.

(-)

"_Why are you doing this?" Hermione whimpered, her whole body wracked with shudders. "Please stop, please."_

_The grip tightened on her arm and a hand moved to touch her thigh. "No, please, not again." _

"_Beg all you like, it will only make this better." The cruel voice echoed in the small room, bouncing off the walls until her ears rang._

Harry swore to himself he was never going to sleep again. His heart pounded like he'd just run a marathon. The sound of his pulse fluttering was magnified in his ears and in his head Hermione's pleas echoed like they would ring through his mind forever.

With a quiet moan Harry drew his knees up to his chest and took deep breaths. Sweat ran down his forehead, his eyes stinging because of it. He wiped it away and noticed his hand shaking. He couldn't deal with this, he wasn't equipped. Harry knew that if he could just talk to Severus he would be okay. Armed with this knowledge he opened the curtains to his bed and checked his dorm mates. Their beds were all shrouded.

Careful not to knock anything over, particularly Seamus' junk that was lying all around the room, he found his trunk at the foot of his bed. He scrimmaged through it, jabbing himself occasionally on a loose quill. Harry frowned. Where was it? He dug deeper, but couldn't find the familiar feel of the silky cloak. He'd have to go without it, he concluded. Maybe he'd misplaced it somewhere.

Harry thought momentarily of the curfew but another look down at his clammy, uncertain hands confirmed it. He needed to see Severus. He snuck down the staircase, breath sounding like a vacuum he was so nervous. Past the Fat Lady. Past the Library. He'd made it all the way to the dungeons before…

"What are you doing out at this time in the night, Mr. Potter?" The nasal-sounding voice of Professor Umbridge sounded down upon him as her hand held his arm securely.

He tried to wriggle out of it, uncomfortable in her grip. "Just thought I heard something, Professor." He tried to justify weakly.

"All the way down here? I doubt that." The Professor's voice was smug and self-satisfied. Harry winced.

"That will be detention, Potter. All week." She said nastily. "Back to your dorm now, before you get into more trouble.

Harry nodded, gaze firmly on the ground. He walked away, waiting around the corner to hear her footsteps leave. But they didn't. He resigned himself to having to return to the dormitory, hands still trembling.

As he woke the disgruntled Fat Lady to get back in, his stomach churned with guilt and self-loathing. Harry stepped through the portrait hole with the knowledge in his mind of what he'd have to do. The sudden pain came earlier than expected though as Harry collided with something very solid and very much invisible.

"Ooomph." The thing he'd banged into groaned as they rebounded off each other. The thing sounded suspiciously like Ron Weasley.

"Ron?"

"Harry?"

There was an embarrassed silence. "What are you doing with my cloak?" Harry demanded, anger slowly rising as he began to grasp the situation. If he'd been to see Malfoy or something, it wouldn't have been secret.

Ron flipped back the hood and his bright red face became visible. "I was just borrowing it." He said, looking particularly sheepish. "I was going to give it back as soon as I'd finished." He assured.

"You should have told me. I needed it!"

"I'm sorry, but, well, it was… confidential…" He trailed off, shifting awkwardly.

"So you took my cloak without asking because you wanted to go meet some girl!" Harry exclaimed, not bothering to lower his voice. He was so angry at Ron and at the world in general that he didn't care if he woke the entire tower. Or if he got another weeks worth of detentions from that dragon-lady of a professor.

"How did you know?" Ron stared at him wide-eyed. Harry felt the slightest bit guilty but he squashed it with his fury.

"I was right? Merlin, Ron, you should have just asked!"

"No, I couldn't have," Ron insisted. "I didn't want anyone to know."

Jealously reared its ugly head before Harry could stop it. "Does Malfoy know?"

"I don't know."

"Who is it?" Harry asked, his thoughts from earlier coming to the forefront of his mind, vying to be confirmed.

There was an uncomfortable silence that dragged for almost a full minute before the other boy seemed to have mustered up some courage. "Luna Lovegood." Ron whispered so quietly Harry had to lean in to hear.

Harry's mind went through several emotions all at once. He bit his lip hard, twisting it between his teeth. He had a choice, he knew. He could get angry about this, and probably start a fight that would last for ages, or he could pucker up and deal. Harry inwardly sneered. It really wasn't a choice.

"The next time you want to go behind my back to see some girl, you can think twice about our friendship." He whispered coldly, turning away from Ron and heading up the stairs. On second thought, he twisted back and grabbed the cloak from Ron's hands.

Harry slipped into the bathroom and locked it behind him. He paused for a second, back hard against the wood. Running his fingers through his hair, he blinked a couple of times before turning to face the wall on his right. He remembered this, this was familiar. His fingers traced the cracks in the tile grout along the wall until he found the right one, prying the tiles apart he fiddled the paper-wrapped parcel out from the gap. Unwrapping it to feel the cold, familiar metal of the razorblade, Harry's stomach began to do somersaults, making him feel dizzy and nauseous.

It was freezing in the bathroom. A window was open and a cool breeze caressed his skin every few seconds. The approaching winter looked to be a cold one. Despite the hair-raising cold, Harry felt slick with sweat, hands clammy from his anxiety. Pressing his cheek to the tile he closed his eyes. He needed it. He had no other choice. A strange sound emerged from his lips, a frustrated whimper.

Hermione was suffering and all Harry could do was dream about it. Dream of her hurt over and over. Her pleading eyes were burned into his retina, her pain branded in his mind. The image of her never left him, it was always just behind his eyelids so that when he blinked it could serve as a reminder of her agony and his uselessness. And Ron. Ron who had a secret girlfriend, Ron who was probably shagging her and couldn't tell Harry. One friend was so far away but always with him, the other right there but so distant it hurt.

Harry needed Severus right then. If the man was there maybe he wouldn't have understood, but he would have known. Just his presence had somehow become a comfort. Dependence, Harry thought, was a cruel and hurtful weapon. He lifted the razor so that he could see it. The faint light from the moon outside glinted off it.

Harry clenched his jaw and threw the blade as hard as he could across the room. The satisfying clink it made as it hit the wall made him relax a little. A strangled sound emerged from his throat, transforming into a choked sob. Nothing was going right. He was meant to come back to Hogwarts, and everything would be like it was before. But it wasn't, nothing was the same, change seemed to be all around him.


	25. Part 2: Chapter 4

I know it's been a while but I've been incredibly busy with my final exams (which I'm still in the middle of!) I'm not entirely certain about this chapter but I thought I'd get it out there for you guys, so be gentle. Please review, it's what keeps me going! Thanks to all of you who reviewed for the last chapter!

Here's a little plot synopsis for those of you need a little reminding: Harry's come back from Snape's to find Hogwarts infested by the evl Umbridge. Ron and Draco (who is still getting bullied by a few Slytherins and who is bitter at Snape 'abandoning him') have formed an alliance to save the possibly still alive Hermione. Seamus and Draco have been 'set up' by Harry. Harry's been feeling a bit like the odd one out.

Part 2: Chapter 4

"How do I know if I'll ever be normal again?"

The scratching of quill on parchment paused. Harry picked at the velvet on the sofa. It was coming away from the polished wood of the armrest and threads frayed dangerously around the edges. He wondered why Severus hadn't repaired it. One wave of his wand and it could be brand new. Maybe if other things were like that…

"Normal?" Harry didn't have to look up, he could hear the raised eyebrow in the man's voice.

Normal. Normal was some boy in London, with the perfect parents, the perfect home, the perfect marks, the perfect life. Or at least that was what it was supposed to be. Harry didn't care anymore about that kind of normal. It was too far out of his reach, too improbable for him to think about. Instead, he just wanted to not feel like the world was pressing down on his chest every second of every day. He'd read about men being pressed to death in the middle ages as a punishment. Harry wished he knew what he was being punished for.

The quill was carefully set on the table as the professor leaned back in his chair, fingers resting from marking as he crossed his arms. "Is there something you want to tell me Harry?"

"No. Yes." He thought about it for a moment. "We have fifteen minutes before this 'detention' has to end. Anything I want to tell you is null and void in fifteen minutes. What's the point?" Severus looked vaguely upset, Harry thought. He felt guilty but that washed away as bitterness took over. He hated Umbridge so much it hurt his head to think about it.

"The point is that if you don't say it, the wound will fester." Severus had told Harry that he felt he had personally invested so much in Harry that it would be difficult not to care for him. He'd said that when Harry asked if their relationship was going to go back to the way it was before when they were at Hogwarts, if everything Harry had felt in the past 6 months was going to be erased. Harry had thought at the time that it would feel like someone was ripping his heart out. Now he realised, it just felt like his stomach was heavy.

"Yeah, well, that's I'm used to isn't it? Wounds." Harry felt the overwhelming urge to hit someone. Not just throw a punch, but really lay into someone. It felt like his temperature had risen a hundred degrees and he felt a bit detached from it all.

The silence was long and deafening. Harry opened his eyes again, letting the air expel from his lungs in a great whoosh. "I don't even know what to say anymore." The look on Severus' face made Harry's stomach turn and he examined the creases on the other man's forehead instead. Furrowed. Frown lines. Shadows. Worry. He couldn't do this.

"I can't do this." He spoke the words with a calm that contrasted the overwhelming sound of blood rushing through his veins that resonated in his head. The sound drowned whatever reply Severus made and the quiet thud of the door shutting behind him was inaudible. Every step he took towards the Common Room was one step away from the only person he'd felt safe with in a long time. It was another step away from control.

Every second he lay in bed ticked away, counted in his head, every one seemed to last forever.

* * *

When Ron came back to the dorms later that night he ducked his head between Harry's bed curtains. The moonlight that crept in the crack made Harry squint up at the red-head. 

"We're meeting Draco by the portrait in ten minutes." He whispered. Harry stared at him. "So get dressed," He urged. "And be quiet."

Harry nodded dumbly, his mind elsewhere. More useless talk about saving Hermione no doubt. The futility of it made Harry furious. They were no closer than Malfoy had been at the beginning, alone in his certainty that Hermione was alive. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the sick feeling that haunted him.

The stones were cold under his feet and he squinted at the light in the bathroom. His glance went immediately to The Place. Why he'd put them back he didn't know. In case. In the event of an emergency, go here. That sort of thing. He splashed water onto his face, the half-asleep feeling that came from being woken up at one o'clock in the morning wouldn't dissipate. Not having slept well for a few weeks now, Harry sighed at the developing bags under his eyes. He looked exhausted. His face was gaunt and his eyes were sunken back into their sockets. The emerald of his iris looked brighter than usual in contrast to his sickly complexion. Harry's gaze continued to travel back to The Place. He left the bathroom before that thought could travel further.

The Common Room looked different at night time. Peaceful. Serene. Lonely. Ron was already waiting for him at the entrance, impatient, awake. More lively than Harry anyway.

"You look like shit, mate." Ron said earnestly, opening the portrait hole quietly, so as to not wake the Fat Lady.

Harry just glared at him. Draco looked like he thought the same thing but was tactful enough not to say anything. Maybe grateful enough. His 'date' with Seamus had gone well, Harry had surmised. If date involved Seamus not coming to the dorm at all that night. So much for virginity. Harry had decided he had to lose his as soon as possible. He was beginning to feel ridiculously out of place and it made him uncomfortable. He was all fixed now, so there was no reason not to… jump in the deep end, as it were. He tried to focus on the whispered conversation the other boys were having.

"…tracing's not working. Book from the library said that I could try a combination of blood magic and a tracking spell but we'd need her here to get blood and I think that's out of the question. Maybe-"

"It might not be." Harry interrupted. There could be a loophole there he thought.

"What?" Ron asked, two sets of eyes on him, confused. "What might not be?"

"Getting her blood. She gave marrow at the hospital for her cousin last year in the summer." The blank looks were frustrating. "She gave bone marrow when her cousin got sick. They froze it. It might still be there."

"Can they do that? Muggles, I mean?" Malfoy this time, a little bit of awe in his voice.

"I think so." He wasn't entirely sure how it worked but he remembered Hermione talking excitedly about the whole procedure. Only Hermione could think such a thing exciting.

"That could work." Harry could almost see the cogs working in Malfoy's head. "We'll need to wait until the holidays but that could definitely work."

"Why do we need to wait?" Ron demanded. Harry agreed, the nightmares were wearing him down and the thought of Hermione in that much pain made him sick to his stomach.

"Well, I need to find a way to get to the hospital for one. Do you even know which hospital it was?"

"Er, Saint something." He remembered her telling him but the name hadn't been important at the time. "Saint Timothy?"

"Merlin, Potter. Either you're sure or you're not."

"Saint Thomas, that's it. I think." He cringed. "We could always tell a teacher. Severus or someone."

"'Severus or someone'" Malfoy mocked him in a falsetto that made Harry's face flush madly, his fingers curling. "You call him 'Severus'?"

Ron seemed to use his eyes for once and noticed Harry's distress. "Lay off, Draco. We can't tell a professor, they don't believe us. And besides, Umbridge's a real dragon, no meetings of more than two people, nothing private, that sort of thing. Remember what I told you about Dumbledore? The ministry's trying to shunt him out."

"Fine, we wait then." And the nightmares would come, Harry added silently.

* * *

Breakfast the next day was particularly uncomfortable. He could feel the burning gaze of the Potions Professor on him but he refused to look up at the High Table. Harry hadn't been lying when he said he couldn't do it. He could either depend on Snape or he couldn't. It was that simple. Meanwhile his breakfast tasted like cardboard in his mouth and his pumpkin juice bitter. Ginny sat opposite him with Neville. They did go together well, Harry thought. They weren't like Lavender and her boyfriends, all over each other, they were just… comfortable… 

That reminded him of his mission. If he couldn't save Hermione he could at least save himself from languishing in the hell of all teenaged boys: virginity. If nothing else, it was a distraction, he admitted. Catching sight of Seamus and Malfoy exchanging what they thought were discrete bedroom eyes across tables, Harry almost choked. It was as if they liked the idea of 'star-crossed lovers' a little too much. He nearly gave himself whiplash turning away. He was resolved to look straight ahead, keep his eyes to himself. However, Ginny and Neville were having another one of those 'comfortable moments' together just as he did. Next to him Dean and Lavender were publicly expressing their affection to an extent that Harry was tempted to tell them to get a room. Ron was missing altogether and so was Luna Lovegood. That was it, he was officially the only virgin in his dorm. The mission suddenly became ten times more important.

There was no way this week was ending without something changing. As if awakened to the idea all of a sudden, Harry spent his morning classes scoping out the female half of Hogwarts. Every option seemed wrong. Either they swooned when he came near, which was stupid now that he looked like the walking dead and hadn't done anything spectacular in months, or he found some irreconcilable fault in them. Too tall, too short, looked too much like Hermione… the list went on. Every class involved cataloguing the opposite sex. He had lists, for Merlin's sake.

Even in Potions he couldn't escape the urge to examine the problem. It was only fortunate that Snape still seemed reluctant to ask him questions and Harry certainly wasn't about to volunteer himself. Pansy Parkinson sat in front of him and he was almost ashamed that he was categorising her as well.

"Stay behind after class, Mr. Potter." He braced himself.

After everyone had left he turned to face Snape. He was surprised to see the man looked relieved.

"I must say, Harry it was a bit of a relief to know you're thinking about girls, but-"

"Did you use Legilimency on me?" Harry stared at him suspiciously.

"I'm not blind," He sounded almost amused. "I did see how your interest in Miss Parkinson drove you to distraction in my class." Harry was embarrassed that the professor thought it was interest but didn't correct him. "As I was saying, I don't know if you're ready for a relationship yet. You've been-"

"I'm ready."

"If you're-"

"I'm sure." The mild frustration visible at Harry's interruptions did not deter him. "Trust me, I'm sure."

"If you insist." Snape conceded after Harry refused to look him in the eye.

"I do. Thanks Professor." He fled, walking calmly out of the classroom and then making a run for it as soon as he was out of earshot. Sometimes in discussions with Severus he got the oddest feeling, like the man could see right through him - which Harry now knew he could. He'd become quite adept at evasion over the months though, and rightly so, he definitely did not want the man knowing about the whole 'virginity' thing. He could sense the disapproval already. But this was one thing a professor just could not understand.

* * *

Lunch was torture, it was like breakfast all over again. Harry kept his gaze firmly on his bowl except for short scans of the other tables. He skipped dinner altogether, deciding the ordeal was not worth it, but by the end of the day there was one girl who stood out in his mind. He almost dismissed her altogether because she was a Slytherin but Tracey Davis kept popping up in his head anyway. 

Of course there was one, huge, gaping hole in his master plan (which was shaping up to be more of an obsession but was there a difference?). If there was one thing Harry knew about girls it was that they wanted a relationship before they wanted sex. And it was the word 'relationship' that really threw Harry. Girls weren't just a different gender, they were an alien race, they were mysterious machines of giggles and whispers. That was where Tracey came in. In all the opportunities he'd had to interact with her (which were very few, he'd be the first to admit), she had been unbelievably straightforward. Blunt even. It helped that she had a pretty face and bright blue eyes that sparkled, just a little bit like Dumbledore's. Like she knew something he didn't. He had no doubt that she did but instead of putting him off, she became the focus of his mission. She seemed simple and like a girl who knew exactly what she wanted. She seemed in control. Harry liked that.

So, he decided in bed that night, he would approach her. He would approach her and see where it went from there.

* * *

It turned out it wasn't that easy. Firstly he chickened out. Several times. Over several weeks. When he had finally worked up the courage to say something to her he found himself tackled by the duo of Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley. Literally a duo, these days whenever Harry saw one, he saw the other. Strangely, with other things occupying his mind, he didn't mind so much. In fact, every now and again he found himself feeling part of another trio. What the two had wanted to say had held his attention for the next several days. Malfoy had wanted to research more into the idea of blood magic and tracking. So Harry's weekend was spent in the library reading through tomes so old they ought to have crumbled into dust. Occasionally Malfoy would hand him a book that Harry instinctively knew he shouldn't be reading. The black cover usually tipped him off. And titles such as 'The Art of the Blood: One hundred and one ways to maim from afar' (complete with illustrations) made his fingers itch. He didn't even want to know where Malfoy got them, and, after hours of poring over them, he didn't want to know why Malfoy thought they'd be useful either. 

Then there was the covert Seamus/Malfoy affair. Of which, because he was the only one to know, he had become the mediator. Who knew setting up one date (if one could call it such a thing) would cause him so much trouble? They were surprisingly compatible, in that after a nasty fight was finally patched up one would hardly know they'd had one. Until the next one, that is. He was beginning to think he'd made a terrible mistake.

One thing he could be grateful for was the ease by which he slipped back into classes. He had no trouble catching up, if anything, everything was easier. That may have been due to his learning of Occlumency, he supposed. It did help tidy his mind a bit. Transfiguration had become less of a challenge, he had begun to pick things up at a rapid pace. In Potions he worked harder, concentrated more, mostly due to the influence of Severus, whose glare somehow meant more now.

However, all those distractions meant he had little time to work up his courage to approach Tracey Davis. It was also slipping close to the holidays, at which point their plan of action would come into play. It was a Thursday afternoon after classes that he had his opportunity. He was determined to let nothing come in his way this time.

She was alone in the library, reading what looked to be a magazine. It was only when he got close enough to see which magazine it was that he realised he had no idea what he was going to say. Of course at that point he was way too close to pretend he'd been doing something other than talk to her.

She looked up before he formulated an appropriate starter. "Oh, Potter." That was discouraging. At least it wasn't 'ew, Potter' he supposed.

"Er, yeah. Well, I just wanted to ask you if you'd maybe like to go somewhere with me… sometime…" He could have kicked himself. It figured that this was the one part that he forgot in all his obsessing. No matter how straightforward a girl was, he doubted she'd go for that.

She cocked an eyebrow and stared at him like he was a particularly interesting insect. The kind that one examined for a few seconds before killing it with the new issue of what looked to be Witch Weekly. "You want me to go _somewhere _with you _sometime_?" She repeated.

He just gulped and nodded. Perhaps a tactical retreat was in order. He'd been preoccupied, he hadn't thought this through.

"You tried to kill yourself last year, didn't you?" He should have known it would come back to haunt him. He should have seen this coming from a mile away.

"I wouldn't call it that, exactly…" Harry stuttered his way through a response, feeling that his ship had already struck the ice-berg, he was a goner.

"What do you call it then?" A statistical error? Kind of like the one that led him to think he could ask Tracey Davis out at all, much less sleep with her.

"Er, trying to check out early?" He joked with a wince. He could see the edge of her lip twitch just the slightest bit at that. It was a relief, he supposed, that he could joke about it. The memory had lost its immediate pain, it was just a residual pain now, like the ache Mad-Eye got when it rained.

"Okay."

"… what?" He felt lost.

"Okay I'll go out with you. Somewhere. Sometime."


End file.
